Amira

_çvtÇ ixÇzxtÇvx Copyright © September 2011, S. K. Yule Cover art by For the Muse Designs © September 2011 Amira Press Charlotte, NC 28227 www.amirapress.com ISBN: 978-1-937394-09-7 No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

Wxw|vtà|ÉÇ To my husband who lets me subject him to the workings of my imagination—even under duress at times—but who is also proud of everything I accomplish. As always, to my brilliant writing buddy, Tawanna, who allows me to bounce ideas off her, and has no qualms about giving me honest, helpful input and critique at any given moment. And thanks to all of my wonderful readers who love reading about sexy, alpha lycans as much as I like writing about them.

Lycan Vengeance

S. K. Yule

Chapter One Rose took aim at the lycan and pulled the bowstring back in a fluent, silent motion, waiting for the perfect moment to let it fly into the heart of the beast. She’d spent the last ten years hunting the monsters, and vowed to quit only on the day she drew her last breath. While most humans lived in oblivious bliss to the existence of the shape-shifters, she was not so lucky. The knowledge that such monsters existed would do nothing but create terror and chaos, a terror so deep it embedded itself into one’s bones, one’s essence. At this point in her life, oblivious bliss sounded like heaven. While she’d become somewhat immune to the frightening emotions concerning the existence of such monsters, she was still susceptible to the infrequent revolt of those emotions. On the occasions they would surface— rear their ugly heads like heinous horned mythical beasts—they’d steal the air from her lungs and glare at her with an evil grin while she slowly suffocated. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she took a long, indrawn breath, struggling to stave off the building tidal wave threatening to rip all logic from her brain, attempting to make her instinct of flight kick in. The pungent odor of deer urine she inhaled nearly made her gag. The cloying scent she’d sprayed on herself to mask her presence while hunting was one she’d never grow accustomed to. A shower was always a welcomed necessity at the end of the day. Hell, she’d be willing to run through a freezing stream of hose water if need be to get the stink off her. Thus far, the Michigan winter had been brutal, and it had only officially started two weeks ago. The snow was nearly waist deep, the already cold temperature plummeted as night came closer, and the forest was a deadly place for anyone unfamiliar with the terrain. She tensed when the lycan shifted, sniffing at the air like a dog. This particular lycan had been a pain in her ass for almost a month. If she hadn’t been a good tracker, his evasive tactics would have stopped her pursuit dead on more than one occasion. He was different from the others she’d hunted. He seemed wiser, craftier, almost precise in each and every movement he made.

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Her aim had to be exact. The arrow had to go through the heart, or the lycan would shift and heal itself. Her iron-shafted, silver-tipped arrows were specially made, as was her bow, and it had taken countless hours of shooting practice to get her accuracy to near perfection with the heavier shafts. Taking aim at something that appeared to be human was always unnerving, but she kept the images of what this particular man could become—an abomination—burned into her brain for when her conscience whispered at her. The memories of that fateful night—the night that had changed the path of her life forever—so long ago were seared into her brain with minute detail. She doubted that even death could release her from the horrid events, for they were etched onto her very soul and would remain a part of her for eternity. Tammy’s smiling face flashed before her, and images she struggled hard to keep buried tore through the surface of her will, shredding it with claws that would not be denied. Rose and Tammy had been inseparable once Tammy’s family had moved into the small house next door to her childhood home when they had both been five. They’d instantly formed a bond and had spent the next several years growing up and learning about the thrills and letdowns of life together. They’d shared sleepovers, vacations, and even a pet turtle they’d found in the backyard they’d named Gertie. As they’d gotten older, they experienced bullies, loss, triumph, and later first love together—or what their young, naive hearts had thought to be love. They’d confided in one another their fantasies and dreams. They had no secrets between them. After graduation from high school, they’d spent the summer mapping out the paths they wanted to venture down in life and how they would go about achieving their goals. They had both decided to attend the local college—Tammy to study biology and Rose to study nursing. Unfortunately, those were dreams that would never come to fruition. The week before they were to start college, they had talked about how neither of them had been interested in partying or rowdy crowds. Both preferred to stay home and watch movies, read, or just hang out—had even 2

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been dubbed “The Goody Two-Shoes Twins” by their former classmates for being known as “good” girls. They’d wondered if they had missed out on some rite of growing up. Curious over what all the fuss was about, they’d decided to attend one of the parties on the campus of the college they would attend soon. Unfortunately, fate did not choose to grace them with a premonition of the tragic consequences the night held for them. By the time they’d realized Tammy’s new boyfriend, Russell, had intentionally steered them to the pits of hell, it had been too late. The party—just off campus—had started out as any typical party might, underage drinking, pranks, skinny-dipping, and sex taking place, but within a matter of hours, things had changed drastically. To make matters worse, the few sips of beer Tammy and Rose had consumed were enough to dull their senses and put them in a fog since neither had imbibed alcohol before that night. Their logic and instincts had been deadened just enough to effectively deafen the sound of the warning bells in their minds until it had been too late. Neither of them noticed when most of the partiers had left the house or when only a few girls remained, outnumbered greatly by at least a dozen guys. By the time it had become apparent things weren’t quite right, there was no escape. Six of the men had circled them, while the remaining six circled the other two girls—girls Tammy and Rose had never met. When Tammy asked Russell what was going on, he’d pasted a charming smile on his lying, evil lips and assured them not to worry, that it was just an initiation of sorts and that there was no reason to be scared. When he handed them both a soda, Rose had felt a little better that he wasn’t trying to ply them with more alcohol, and after taking a few sips, the tendrils of fear that they were in deep trouble were quickly numbed by the drugs that had been slipped into their drinks. She and Tammy were ushered to the couch along with the other two girls while a meeting among the men took place. Russell seemed to be the leader of the gang and talked about rogues and mates and the mating scent and why it was their right as lycans to use the

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girls. She’d thought she’d been hallucinating for most of the conversation because none of it had really made any sense. However, when one of the men turned into a wolf, all four of them had been smacked back into reality by the cold hand of dread. She’d never forget the chilling apprehension that had slithered through her spine when she’d seen the man’s muscles contort and dark fur spring through every pore on his skin. His fangs had elongated, his eyes had glowed, and flashes of every scary movie she’d ever seen shuffled through her memory. None of them had come close to giving her the fright she’d felt at that very moment. Tammy and the other girls had shrieked in terror, but Rose’s vocal cords squeezed together in fear, paralyzing any sound she tried desperately to make. That one thing—her body’s natural reaction to being subjected to a living nightmare—had been what had saved her. The shrieks from the other girls excited the men, attracted their attention as effectively as a flower drew a bee. She’d sat in frozen terror until one of them touched her—the touch enough to jerk her back into reality. Her natural instincts took over once again, and she’d bitten down hard on his hand. That had been the last thing she’d remembered, as shortly thereafter, a fist to her cheek slammed her into unconsciousness. There had been no stars, no blurring of her vision, no dimming of light. One minute she’d been aware, awake, scared, and a split second later, a switch had been flipped, and her mind had been shut off. When she came to, she wondered if she was dead, but the pain radiating through her cheek told her otherwise—pain was what made one know they were still alive. She didn’t know how long she’d been out when she awoke to the sound of police sirens and a paramedic standing over her, positioning an oxygen mask on her face. Then the memories had crashed into her, and she’d lost control. Her fists flew out of their own accord, and her arms and legs flailed as she tried to get free so she could find Tammy, but they’d subdued her with a pair of strong hands and a quick injection of something that made her feel similar to the drugs Russell had slipped into her soda. The next time she awoke, it was to sterile white walls and beeping machines in the hospital. Her parents had been anxiously waiting by her 4

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bedside, and eventually told her Tammy was dead. She’d insisted on seeing her best friend, even over her parents’ adamant protests. Rose squeezed her eyes shut. Damn, how she’d wished she’d listened to them. Tammy hadn’t looked anything like the beautiful girl Rose knew. Her once nearly flawless face was black and blue and swollen to nearly unrecognizable. Clumps of her shiny red hair had been ripped out, exposing bloody patches of her scalp, and her fingernails—which were almost always meticulously manicured—had been chipped and broken. Her clothes had been shredded, and claw marks marred her skin. Rose had cried for days and never fully got over her friend’s death. She ended up delaying going to college—which only led to not going at all—and took bow and shooting lessons, self-defense classes, and buried herself in research about lycan folklore. At one time in her innocent life, she would have laughed at anyone who told her lycans were real, but now she knew only a monster could do what had been done to Tammy—the other girls, it turned out, as well. Besides, hadn’t she seen one with her own eyes? She refused at that point to believe it had been a mere hallucination caused by the drug. She’d been the only one of the girls to survive that night. The guilt over it had gnawed at her incessantly, day after day. At times she wished she’d died right along with Tammy and the others. Why had she been spared? The familiar guilt still ate away at her at times, even though she’d finally accepted it for what it was—unexplainable. Obviously her life being spared when it should not have was just one of those things, like why someone who flipped a car to where it was an unrecognizable heap of mangled metal could walk away without so much as a scratch, and another would die from a simple fall in the backyard. A year later she’d made her first kill—Russell—but not before she’d none too gently coaxed some information from him. She’d been sickened by his philosophy of life. He thought the world was his, thought he could do anything to anyone without consequences, actually believed it was his right to rape, torture, and hurt others. It hadn’t been all that hard to get everything out of him she wanted to know, as he’d bragged about most of it. 5

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She hadn’t been all that surprised to learn about lycans’ speed, heightened senses, and ability to heal quickly, but there had been one thing that had thrown her off. The mating scent. All potential human mates had a unique scent that marked them as compatible to breed with lycans. A damned smell was the only reason Tammy had been killed that night. All four of them had carried the scent that marked them as bait to all lycan, according to Russell. Unfortunately, the prick had refused to tell her about any lycan weaknesses or how to kill them, no matter how she’d tried to persuade him, but she’d figured that out all on her own. Everything she’d researched pointed to silver, so she’d stuck a silver stake through Russell’s heart and watched him die, thinking even that had been too easy of a death after what he’d done to Tammy. While she hadn’t been able to muster enough emotion to regret ridding the world of such a monster, she’d had to shield herself from the guilt her heart caused her for killing another living thing. After Russell, she’d devoted all of her time to getting rid of as many of the lycans as she could. She’d learned lots of tricks along the way—the deer urine to mask her scent was one of the better ones—but she didn’t forget that she’d never be the one with the upper hand in the battle. Her breath hitched when the lycan she drew down on turned in her direction. Four scars that resembled claw marks ran from his forehead, over his eye, and stopped midway down his cheek. She had been made, and she had to take the shot now if she were to have even a slight chance of coming out of this alive. Her arm quivered from the effort of holding the string taut, and she released her fingers, letting the arrow whistle through the air toward its intended target. Her aim was true, but at the last second, the lycan twisted, and the arrow pierced its chest right beside the heart. Her heart sank, then pounded furiously. She’d missed, and now she had to run for her life. She burst from the nest of dead branches she’d been using as cover and started in the direction she’d left her truck, when a bloodcurdling scream of rage echoed behind her. By her estimate, she was about four miles in, and the head start she had on the lycan would amount to little once the thing recovered from the shock of being shot and set after her. 6

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The adrenaline she’d tried to suppress only moments earlier was now her best friend. She was in great shape, but as the deep snow and cold air took its toll, her strength waned. She’d been in tighter situations than this, and she’d get through this one—at least she thought she would, until the sound of dead branches crashed behind her as the lycan closed in. The fear that slithered up her spine gave pause to her doubts, making her wonder if she’d come out completely unscathed. She focused on the line of trees marking her destination, trying hard not to think about the fact that she could practically feel the hot breath of her pursuer on her neck. Within seconds, her truck came into view through the thick tree line, and relief poured through her, almost there. Maybe she would make it after all, but that thought was crushed, along with her body, when she was tackled from behind. The sheer weight of the beast knocked what little breath she had left from her lungs as she hit the ground hard. She’d assumed one day she’d die by the hands of a lycan. She just hoped that that day wasn’t today.

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Chapter Two Knox had been a hunter for far too long to not realize he was being followed again. He’d been tailed for around a month now, but had to admit that whoever his stalker was had a few tricks up his sleeve. He’d gotten close a few times to discovering who hunted him, but he’d always been a second too late to come face-to-face with his pursuer. While the deer urine had fooled him for about a second, he couldn’t discount the cleverness of the trick, as it would probably work well in masking one’s scent from most lycans, especially the young rogues he helped keep in check. Being one of the few ancients left in a dwindling race, the wool was not so easily pulled over his eyes. He had killed more rogues in his time than he cared to remember, and hated the impact the loss had on the lycans, but there was no other option for those who refused to reform. The rogues enjoyed appalling and unacceptable behavior, which included killing potential mates. When he ran across a rogue who was willing to reform—no matter how rare the instance—it made all the sacrifices, the pain, the loneliness worth it. Anything he had to do to help save his race was worth the steep price it cost him, even if each rogue he’d killed who’d refused to obey ancient laws claimed a piece of his soul. He didn’t enjoy executing anyone, even those who deserved it, but it was a necessary job that had to be done. While he knew other lycans, ancient and younger, who were not rogue played a part in the battle to save his species, sometimes he felt as if he were the only one. Now am I being a whiny bitch or what? Ancient lycan law demanded the protection of all potential mates. Potential mates were becoming a rare find, and it was paramount to the survival of the lycans to protect them. Unfortunately, rogues didn’t have the same views. They thought potential mates were fair game to all lycans, and any of those who carried the main scent who happened into their paths usually ended up getting kidnapped, tortured, or raped, or any combination of all three.

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The majority of those who went rogue were young pups who’d been born of ill-treated women and who’d just come into manhood, drunk off their newly heightened senses and power. That was problem number two: There weren’t enough ancients to keep track of all the new pups born. Thus the pups weren’t taught the importance of potential mates to the lycan population. Although, he doubted that knowledge would be enough to stop all lycans from going rogue. Some of the ancients had formed a place called Sanctuary in northern Michigan, but he had never visited the place. He preferred to work alone, and had done so most of his life, but Sanctuary was becoming an integral part of the lycans’ existence. He had heard rumors of other states and countries setting up sanctuaries as well. It would take time to get the reform encampments established and to discreetly get word out of their locations. The past several months, he’d become accustomed to the idea of Sanctuary and was happy there would finally be another way to keep track of rogues who were willing to reform. Up to this point in time, those who hunted the rogues had to rely on their reformants’ word and check on them as often as possible. This made the hunters probation officers as well, and babysitting took valuable time away from threading out other savable rogues from the hopeless ones. Sanctuary provided more than a shelter and educational tools for rogues. It provided a necessary lifting of burden off the ancients out in the field. The fact that he no longer had to keep tabs on those who had personally promised him they would change their ways was a huge relief. It had become a nearly impossible task, and had started weighing heavily on him and the other hunters. A slight thunk and whistle alerted him that trouble was coming, and innate instinct had him jumping to the side. Unfortunately, he hadn’t reacted quick enough to avoid the arrow altogether, as it embedded in his chest just a few inches from his heart. And, thus the third problem with rogues: their careless actions were starting to alert humans to their existence. He screamed out in fury and gripped the arrow to yank it out. Suddenly, weakness slithered through him. Only one thing could cause him that kind of 9

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sudden weakness. The damned shaft of the arrow was iron, and touching it immediately began draining his strength. Humans figuring out lycans existed was one thing, but if they’d found out that iron was their weakness—he didn’t even want to think about the consequences of that one. It would take only one human to believe in their existence, one persistent human who could entice others into believing, one human who could gather a group of hunters who could seriously deplete an already endangered species or even perhaps do the unthinkable—wipe the lycans’ existence from the face of the earth. Although not lethal, the injury the arrow had caused hurt like hell, and the brief contact he’d had with the iron hadn’t helped either. He was pissed and in pain. Pain and pissed never sat well with him, and he pictured snapping the neck of the son of a bitch who had just shot him—the one he was now closing in on. He hadn’t taken the time to shift and heal his wound, refusing to allow any more advantage to the soon-to-be dead man. He never doubted for a moment that he’d catch his man. Even the hesitation of being shot hadn’t kept him from catching up. But why would a human have taken a shot at him while he’d been in human form? With a silver-tipped arrow nonetheless? How had the man known he was a lycan and not a real human? Because he didn’t believe for a moment it had been a simple case of mistaken identity by a lone hunter. No game hunter he’d known had hunted with iron-shafted arrows tipped with silver. The extra weight of the iron shafts would have taken practice to accurately shoot—and his shooter was a precise shot. If his instincts hadn’t alerted him to the impending danger, the arrow would have gone straight through his heart. Labored breaths gave proof that the man was tiring, and Knox smiled. Pushing the throbbing pain in his chest out of his mind, he sped up and leaped onto the man’s back. They landed hard in the snow, and he could hear a satisfying whoosh as all the air was knocked from the lungs of his attacker. When he flipped the man over, his eyes widened in shock. This was not a man at all. It was a woman. A gorgeous woman with full lips and eyes the color of crystalline aqua water stared up at him. Unfortunately, his surprise at her beauty, and at the 10

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fact that she was a woman, gave her all the hesitation she needed. She brought her knee up hard in his groin, and when he groaned, he swore he could feel his nuts lodged just under his tonsils. As he regained his composure and reached for her again, she slid a dagger from her boot and sliced an arc across his chest. Instinctively he reared back. The action kept the blade from going deep, but not from cutting through his skin like butter. She raised the dagger for another go at his chest, but he caught her wrist and squeezed until she gasped. He could break her delicate bones easily, and he’d be a liar if he denied a small part of him didn’t want to do just that. She was determined. He’d give her that. She fought hard to maintain her grip on the hilt, but it took only a few seconds before her fingers went limp under the pressure of his fingers and the blade fell harmlessly into the deep snow beside them. His body hardened when she squirmed under him, and he tightened his knees around her hips, effectively stilling her. She didn’t have a chance of getting loose unless he let her, and he was sure she knew that by the way her cheeks burned red with anger and her eyes spit daggers at him. He started to wonder why he was having such a strong sexual reaction to her, thinking he’d been too long without a woman if one who’d just nearly castrated him stoked his blood so quickly. A split second later that question was answered for him as two subtle scents—ones previously masked by the deer urine she was drenched in—tickled his nose. He froze and stared down at her in wonderment. This woman carried the main scent, but she also carried the mated scent—the first of which all of his kind could detect, but the second called only to him. His nostrils flared, and his body tensed in primal need. She was his. After all of those long, lonely years thinking he would never meet her, thinking a rogue would most likely get to her before he ever would, she was here. His mate. Mine! His inner wolf became restless, and paced inside him growling, howling to get out, but Knox refused to let him have free rein, knowing he would not be able to control the animal from claiming what was rightfully his. He would never harm her, never take her against her will. He’d rather die than cause 11

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her any pain. He stared at her in awe. He’d never laid eyes on her until this moment, but he already knew she was perfect. “No!” Her eyes flew wide open, and she tried to buck him off her again with no success. “Kill me, but don’t you dare lay a finger on me, or I swear I’ll rip your heart out.” “I’m not going to kill you or hurt you.” Her voice—scathing as it was— was like salve to a wound, calming music to his chaotic soul. “You’re an animal! I know what your kind does. You should be dead right now. Why couldn’t you have stayed still? A monster like you deserves to die.” Her words were laced with venom and hatred. He laughed, but quickly subdued it when her eyes flared with anger. She’d obviously come in contact with lycans before—rogue lycans by the sound of it. The urge to take her in his arms and make her forget whatever had made her hate his kind nearly made him lose his head and let her go, a mistake that would no doubt get him kneed, or worse, again. “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t stand perfectly still so you could slaughter me. The nerve of me.” He teased her, but could tell she didn’t find him amusing in the least. “Do us both a favor, and let me finish what I started.” “First of all, it would take much more than your pathetic arrow in my heart to kill me, and secondly, I’m not a monster. I’m just like you, more or less.” The words were a little harsher than he’d intended, but he was irritated how easily she could get under his skin and make him want to act irrationally. She’d tried to kill him, and still he wanted to let her go. If he did so, she’d try to kill him again, and he’d have to subdue her—again—and run the risk of hurting her. If she were anyone else, he would have already knocked her unconscious, shoved her in her truck, and would at this moment be driving back to his house for a long night of questioning that may very well end up in her death. Now that he knew she was his, he’d never be able to harm her, but he wasn’t going to let her in on that information—at least not yet. She laughed, and even though it was drenched with scorn, the sound made his heart jump for joy. He’d never expected to find his mate, but her 12

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obvious hatred for his kind did pose a bit of a problem. He laughed inwardly. A bit of a problem. She hates me, and she doesn’t even know me. Her hatred of his kind was obviously embedded deep, and he wondered if he’d be able to convince her that not all lycans were uncaring assholes. Well, actually, come to think of it, he was an asshole, but he’d never hurt someone for that reason alone. Suddenly, rage shot through him at the thought of her alone in the woods hunting him. What would have happened had he been a rogue? Had a rogue already hurt her in the past, or had she known someone who had been hurt by one? Was that why she hated his kind? The horrible possibilities slammed through his brain, ignited his blood to boiling, and made his gut clench in anger. “You are nothing like I am.” She spit at him, but he dodged the spittle as it flew harmlessly in the air past his shoulder. Her eyes burned with fiery rage. Whatever had made her hate his kind was personal. Oh yeah, that kind of hatred isn’t born of stories from others. Either she, a loved one, or both had had an unpleasant encounter with a rogue. No lycan who hadn’t gone rogue would have ever hurt her in any way. “No offense, lady, but you don’t know me.” He didn’t particularly care for those who judged people by the actions of others, but she wasn’t just anyone, and this wasn’t your normal everyday situation. Everyone was different, and a particular skin color, geographic area, or stereotype didn’t apply to every individual who fell into those categories. Yet could he blame her for assuming he was like all other rogue lycans if she had, in fact, only ever encountered them? Not really. An icy sliver of dread snaked down his spine. He’d seen the results left behind by rogues. The images were forever burned into his brain, and to think that she’d been subjected to any abuse by the bastards was inconceivable. “I know your kind, and you deserve to die.” “I’m sorry if you’ve had bad experiences with my type”—how much did she know about his kind, he wondered—“but we aren’t all alike.” He frowned down at her. 13

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“Let’s call it like it is. I know what you are. You are a lycan, a shapeshifter, and you are an abomination that needs to be sent back where you were spawned—hell.” “If you know so much about lycans, then you should know that silver won’t kill us. It’s only a myth.” “It’s served me well in the past.” “The only reason it’s served you well is, I’m assuming”—he glanced down at the blood covering his shirt—“most of the time you are a pretty good shot.” Had he not twisted out of the way at the last second, she would have planted that arrow right in his heart. “While an arrow in the heart is capable of killing a lycan, it won’t kill him if he can change and heal the wound. The silver isn’t what would take him out. If he dies, it’s because either the wound stops the heart instantly, or he bleeds out too fast and becomes too weak to change.” “Are you saying all of those bastards I’ve killed over the years could have survived?” Her brows drew down, and she frowned. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them did. I would have.” He wasn’t about to tell her that the real weapon was the iron shaft attached to the silver arrow. Had she succeeded in getting it through his heart, he would have been in deep shit. Iron was a lycan’s only weakness, but even though it was a strange coincidence that the shaft had been made of iron, it had seemed simply that—a coincidence. She hadn’t said anything about the iron, and he was pretty decent at detecting deception. He hadn’t sensed her hiding anything on that front. She had no idea. If she was pissed now, he couldn’t imagine her fury at finding out she’d had the means to kill a lycan in her own two hands the whole time. “Get off me.” He shook his head. “What are you going to do with me?” Strip you naked and have my wicked way with you. “I have no idea, but I’m willing to bet that if I let you go, you’ll be back on my ass before I can say boo.” She didn’t strike him as someone who’d give up, and he didn’t miss the 14

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murderous glare in her eyes that practically screamed how bad she wanted him dead. He again wondered what had happened to make her so bent on vengeance, but then again, he wasn’t sure if he could take knowing. His soul called to hers. Fate had made her just for him, and if someone tried to hurt her, he’d kill them without batting an eye. He had no choice but to keep her with him, as he couldn’t allow her to go back out in the woods hunting him or another lycan. He’d never let her come to harm, and eventually she would if she continued on the path she tread. “Just let me go, and I’ll leave you alone.” “How come I don’t believe you?” She growled, and the predator in him clawed to the surface again. If she knew how much he wanted to claim her, she’d probably be horrified— horrified, then appalled. Then she’d try to kill him again, or at the very least, dislodge his nuts once more. He barely kept himself from wincing, the pain in his balls still tingling from the first knee he’d taken to them. “I’ll make you a deal.” “A deal with the devil?” She arched a dainty brow. “If you prefer, but unlike the devil, I’ll keep my word.” “That’s to be seen,” she said through chattering teeth. He sighed as she shivered under him. The adrenaline of the chase had apparently begun to wear off, and she was getting cold. His body temperature ran hotter than the normal temperature of a human, so he hadn’t noticed the cold. While the black leather that encased her lithe figure was sexy as hell, she needed to get the wet clothes off and get dry and warm. The way the leather hugged every lean, toned curve of her body made his cock take notice, but he suspected he’d like her even more naked. “You have two choices. I can put you in that truck, which you were so hell-bent on getting to, take you back to my place, and keep you locked up until I’m done working the area.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he pretty much did the same thing she did . . . hunt lycans, at least not yet anyway. “Or we can make somewhat of a truce. You trust that I won’t hurt you, promise

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not to try to kill me again, and we’ll stick together until it’s time for me to move on.” He’d leave out the part where he’d never go anywhere without her again, but she didn’t need to know that at this point. If he ever wanted to have a hope in hell of convincing her to stay with him, he’d have to ease her into the idea, along with making her understand that he wasn’t a monster. “Those aren’t really choices. That’s forcing me to do something I don’t want to do in either instance.” “They are still choices, and not all choices in life are peachy.” “I prefer the one where I’m not a prisoner.” “Give me your word that you won’t try to run.” “And you’ll believe me?” she asked before laughing. “I have no reason not to.” He smiled when her gaze flared with anger. “Besides the fact that you tried to kill and geld me.” She would probably give him several more reasons in the next few days, hell, hours. “Fine. I won’t run. Now can we go before I freeze to death?” He stood up and held his hand out to her, but she refused to touch him. If he had his way, she’d be begging for his touch by the end of the week. He bent and fished the dagger out of the snow and handed it to her. She hesitated and frowned as if she were wondering if he was giving her some kind of test by giving her the weapon back before taking it and shoving it into the side of her boot. “I already told you silver doesn’t have any effect on me.” He kept a groan from escaping when she looked at the deep cut across his chest and raised that one haughty, dainty brow again. Obviously silver did have some effect when it was used to slice him open, but it didn’t have the effect that folklore touted. Silver didn’t burn or instantly kill lycans or have any other magnificent killing power over other materials or metals. The lycan ancients had started the myth of silver hundreds of years ago, which had proved an extremely smart maneuver, for he hadn’t run across anyone who knew about iron being their real weakness. He’d have to shift to heal the cut and the damned hole in his chest, but he wouldn’t do so until she was safe at the house he was currently renting. 16

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He didn’t own a place of his own, had never had a reason to stay in one place for very long. However, now that he’d met his mate, he wondered if she’d want a place they could settle down in. He suppressed a snort. She hated him, and he wasn’t positive he’d be able to change that, but he would try like hell. Living with a mate who couldn’t stand the sight of him wasn’t preferable, but living without a mate at all now that he’d found her was even less appealing. He had to find a way to get her to trust him, see him as a man and not a monster. His wolf cringed at being called a monster. He cringed at being thought of as a monster by his own mate. He and his lycan counterpart may be different on some levels, but they were merely two parts that blended into a whole. True, one was more dominant, depending on the form he was in, but when he was lycan, he didn’t turn into a half-crazed killer. He’d never do anything in wolf form that he objected to as a man. He followed her to the truck, not missing the scathing glare she gave him when he slid in behind the wheel. She’d given him her word she wouldn’t run, but he was no fool. Giving her an opportunity to prove to him she’d keep her word was one thing, but letting her drive was as naive as waving a loaded gun under her nose. If she decided to renege—and she most likely would at some point in time—it’d be too damned easy for her to drive them into a ditch or do something else that might put her in danger. He could handle whatever she decided to throw at him, but he wouldn’t tolerate her putting her own safety at risk. There would be no hesitation on his part in giving his life to protect her, for his meant little in comparison to hers. He wished he could make her understand how important her existence was. The fact that she was here, alive and breathing, gave him a drive, a force that came from deep inside, a new reason to want to live. He’d never felt the longing that now swelled inside him. When he was younger, his zest for life had been stronger, but that had been before the years of killing and watching the deterioration of his species had wreaked havoc on him. He wouldn’t necessarily say he’d been void of feelings, but they’d been numbed—a natural barrier that had been built over 17

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time to shield against pain and growing hopelessness—and his heart had grown heavy as the suffering of his race continued throughout the years because of rogues’ careless actions. He slid the truck seat back all the way, so his knees were no longer bunched under his chin, turned the engine over, cranked the heat up, and started for his place.

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Chapter Three Rose sat beside the lycan, silently contemplating her options. She’d given him her word she wouldn’t run, but would she keep her word to a monster? She’d always considered herself an honest person, but this was an entirely different matter. She glanced at him from under her lashes. He was nothing like the other lycans she’d encountered over the years. Oh, he had the speed and strength, and the rage that had been thick in the air as he’d chased her had turned her stomach, but he’d controlled his anger. She couldn’t blame him for being pissed at her. She had shot him, and— worse, probably, from his standpoint as a man—she’d racked his balls good for him. She’d be irritated, to say the least, if the situation were reversed— about the shooting part, anyway, because, of course, she had no balls to rack—but after he’d captured her, once he’d realized she was a woman, he’d been almost . . . gentle. She had the distinct impression if she’d been a man, she most likely would not have come out so unscathed. No lycan who had ever had the misfortune of getting his hands on her had ever been gentle, or lived, for that matter, and she had the scars to prove it. “My name is Knox Slade.” She let a smile play at the corner of her mouth, an appropriate name for a dominant predator. Did he really think she was going to cozy up and play nicey nice with him just because he’d shown her some manners? “Do you not have a name?” He chuckled. “Of course I do. I’m just not sure I see the point in sharing it with you.” She hated to admit it, but the man was easy on the eyes, and that was stating it mildly. He had medium-length hair, with a bit of wave that looked as if it had been spun from gold. His body was heavily muscled, and he was huge, which was not uncommon for most of the lycans she’d encountered, but somehow he was more so. The normally roomy cab of the truck felt unusually cramped with him sitting beside her. His cheeks slanted down to sharp, chiseled jaws, full lips, and a straight but not overly big nose. And his eyes—she’d never seen eyes quite that 19

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midnight shade of blue. The scars on the right side of his face had definitely been the result of some wicked claws. The angry, puckered white edges looked similar to some of the scars she wore. He didn’t wince or try to hide from her scrutiny, and she quickly became aware that this was a man whose vanity did not stretch far enough to make him insecure with such scars. In fact, he wore the damn things like a badge. She hated to admit it, but it would take more than a few scars to detract from his hotness. In fact, it added a mysterious air of danger to his already dominant masculinity. His body was something no woman would ignore, a body that was droolworthy. Her mouth went dry when she thought about the way he’d pinned her to the ground. He’d done it with such ease, but hadn’t left a mark on her. He could have killed, raped, or done anything he’d wanted to her. Why hadn’t he? And why was she ogling and eye praising the thing she despised most in the world? She hadn’t met a man who had piqued her interest in a long time, and now she was mooning over a damned lycan. “Where do you live?” he asked as he maneuvered the truck over the snowy roads with expert ease. She didn’t answer him, and he let out an exasperated breath. Good. Let him get pissed at her. She neither wanted to get to know him nor participate in idle chitchat with him. The only interest she had was to get the hell away from him, maybe even kill him before she escaped. That would teach him to mess with her. She knew right then and there she was not going to keep her word. The first chance she got, she’d run. “You don’t need to make this more difficult than it already is.” His voice was laced with a mix of sarcasm and irritation. “You’re the one who’s making this hard. There is no reason I need to be here. Let me go, and we can both forget this whole mess.” He pulled over to the side, and for a split second she thought he was actually going to let her go, but her hope died a quick death with his next words. “This whole mess is deeper than you know. If I let you go, you’ll be right back out in those woods continuing your reckless ways. Not to mention I’m 20

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fairly certain you’ll be hunting my ass again the first chance you get, and now that you’ve seen what that will get you, I’ll save myself the damned trouble. You don’t understand the situation. I have a job to do in the area, and I can’t be worried about protecting you. I can’t afford the distraction.” “You don’t know me. There is no reason for you to be worried about protecting me. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said through clenched teeth, “I can take care of myself.” “In case you haven’t noticed”—he pushed his face toward her until their breaths intermingled—“you failed taking care of yourself when I caught you. You are lucky I’m not a rogue, or your bloody hide would no doubt be lying back in those woods right now. Is that what you want?” “No! I won’t get caught again. I’m good at what I do.” Under normal circumstances her arrow would have met its mark, and she wouldn’t have had to make a run for it in waist-deep snow. She was getting angry. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she didn’t have mad skills, or needed a man to watch her back. “I’m better, and so are numerous others. You’ve been lucky up to this point. Don’t be stupid. I can keep you safe.” His dark eyes glowed. She caught her breath. It was never a good sign when a lycan’s eyes glowed, usually meant one of two things—lust or anger, neither of which she wanted directed at her. “Um, your eyes are glowing.” “Your point?” He raised one brow, which only accentuated the eerie brightness burning in the midnight blue. “I don’t like it.” He took a deep breath, leaned back against the seat, and clutched the steering wheel in his big hands. His eyes closed for a few moments, and when he opened them, the glow was gone. She let the air whoosh from her lungs and watched him warily. He surprised her at every turn. He didn’t act like a normal lycan. She nearly snorted. What exactly was normal about any lycan? He seemed to be going to great lengths to keep from scaring her. In fact, if she were naive, she’d go so far as to say that he was attempting to earn her 21

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trust. But why? Was it because she had the scent, which she knew he had to have smelled through the deer urine by now? Her stomach clenched. “You aren’t taking me to a bunch of your friends to pass around for a good time, are you?” She clenched her teeth and fought the nausea that started churning in her stomach as a result of that thought. He shot her a disgusted look that pretty much screamed he couldn’t believe she’d accuse him of such a thing. He shook his head, put the truck back into gear, and pulled onto the road once again. After all of these years, all of the kills she’d made, had she found a lycan with morals? “I would never pass you around to anyone.” “Seems to be the way of your kind.” “You’ve met the wrong ones of my kind.” “Obviously, since all the lycans I’ve met thus far have wanted nothing more than to get their hands on me for their own personal pleasure.” “The ones you speak of are rogues. I’m not one of them. My job is to protect you.” “Why? Because I have the scent?” “Something like that.” His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened and briefly glowed. He must have been surprised that she’d known about the scent. What wasn’t he telling her? Was he lying to her, and in fact now driving her toward a bunch of his buddies? She prayed to God not, as she didn’t see any way for escape at this particular time. If she jumped from the truck, she’d likely break a leg, or more, at the speed he was driving. She didn’t have a choice at the moment but to hope that he was telling the truth. She looked around nervously, wondering how she’d gotten herself into this mess. She didn’t fraternize with the enemy. She needed to get away from him. Just breathe, Rose. Calm down and use your damned brain. She hadn’t felt trapped like this since the day Russell and his boys had killed Tammy. No matter how hard she fought, her breaths became shorter and faster, and her stomach churned as bile burned the back of her throat at the memories she’d tried so hard to forget.

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The truck slowed again, and her flight instinct overrode her fight instinct. She yanked the handle on the door and jumped. First she heard a growl from Knox, then a loud curse. Next, her body slammed into the hard pavement. Her head bounced off the road with a sickening thud, she cried out, and everything went black. **** Knox watched in horror as Rose jumped from the moving truck. The woman was insane. The growl of frustration and fear soon turned to a curse as he slammed on the brakes. If she wasn’t dead, he was going to wring her beautiful neck. He stepped out, and his knees nearly buckled at the thought of finding her lifeless, broken body lying on the pavement. She couldn’t die. Not when he’d just found her. What had he done to make her so afraid of him? He’d been gentle, careful not to be intimidating. He’d given her his word he wouldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t figure out what horrible thing he’d done to make her jump from a moving vehicle. On the other side of the truck, near the ditch, he found her lying facedown on the black pavement. The breath he’d been holding rushed out in relief when he put two fingers under her jaw and felt the strong beating of her pulse. He gently rolled her over and gasped at the goose egg forming on her right temple. She was going to have one hell of a headache for a while. He ran his hands along each arm and down each leg to check for broken bones. When he found none, he sighed. He hadn’t been driving very fast, slowing to make a turn when she jumped, and after checking her over was sure her injuries were minimal. He patted her cheek softly. “Hey. Wake up, honey. Open your eyes and direct all that anger at me again.” She didn’t stir, and he patted her cheek again. This time, her eyes fluttered and then opened. There was confusion in them at first, but once the obvious recognition of him flooded the pale blue, she came at him swinging. He grinned and subdued her before she could 23

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manage any more damage to herself. He scooped her up and carried her back to the truck while she struggled to get free of his hold. If she had any inkling how much it excited him each time she wiggled those luscious curves against him, he was sure she’d smack him a good one, be horrified, or both. “You’re going to have to trust me just a little bit, darling. I swear on my life I won’t let any harm come to you.” He nuzzled her soft hair and inhaled. Her scent was sweet and called to him even through the cloying deer urine stench. “Can’t trust you.” Her whispered words cut through his heart like a knife. “At least tell me your name. If you don’t, I’m going to start calling you Ethel or Matilda or Hildegard or something.” “Rose. Rose Canton,” she whispered against his shoulder, where her cheek rested now that she’d finally stopped struggling. “That’s a fitting name. A beautiful rose with thorns.” He rubbed at his chest where his shirt was still sticky with drying blood from the arrow and the knife wounds. Luckily the arrow had missed everything major and left a clean hole that hadn’t gone all the way through to his back. He’d bled like a stuck hog for a few moments, but the wound was now more bothersome than painful. He set her in the passenger side and buckled her seat belt before leaning close and whispering in her ear, “I lied about not hurting you. When you are feeling better from this little stunt, I’m going to tan your ass.” He smirked when she shot him a murderous glare and then cringed when her head no doubt protested. He was so more than pissed at the moment, but he wouldn’t lose control with her. She was already leery enough around him. She had scared the living shit out of him, and he was sure that he’d have several gray hairs to show for it soon. It was rare for lycans to get gray hair, but he knew if anything could cause them, this was one of those things. He walked back to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. He glanced at Rose after putting the truck in drive and turning down the road that led to his place. Rose. His mate. How had he been lucky enough to find her after all of these years? She’d be hard to win over. She was angry, stubborn, and . . . lovely, but win her over he would no matter how long it 24

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took. He’d never let her go again, and she’d simply have to get used to the idea that not all lycans were monsters. He turned down the long drive flanked by thick evergreen trees that cocooned his house away from the rest of the world. He’d been lucky enough to rent it from an older man who had once used it as a hunting getaway. The poor gentleman had been sick, was not going to use the cedarsided cabin this year, and had been more than happy to accept Knox’s generous offer for rent. Knox had promised to take care of the place and leave it in the same condition he’d found it, which was surprisingly clean, comfortable, and quaint, although he planned on doing some repairs if he had time. He stopped the truck, put it in park, and killed the engine. When he turned to look at Rose, she was staring back at him. Her skin was pale and the black smudges under her eyes gave away her tiredness. He wasn’t about to put up with the argument she looked to be gearing up to give him, and when she started to speak, he held his hand up. “Do us both a favor, and let’s not do this tonight. You’re tired, hurt, and I’m still pissed at your little acrobatic-dive-turn-eating-the-pavement stunt.” “You didn’t give me a choice.” “Rose?” He reached for her and tucked a soft strand of hair behind her ear, then reluctantly retreated when she flinched at his touch. He refused to let her see just how bad that reaction cut him to the bone. “What?” “Have I hurt you once tonight?” “No, but—” “Have I given you any indication to believe that I am going to hurt you?” She hesitated before answering. “You’re a lycan.” “That’s not what I asked.” “No.” She said the words through clenched teeth, obviously not happy about admitting this to him. “Then let’s let the arguments rest for tonight. You can go in, have a hot shower or bath, take some aspirin, and get a good night’s sleep.” He leaned close and sniffed. “If nothing else, please wash that horrible stench off.” 25

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When she puffed out a breath of indignation, he laughed. “Sorry, babe, but you don’t exactly smell like your name implies.” She gave him one last seething glare, whipped the door open, and started for the house. He followed close behind in case she decided to bolt. This was going to be one hell of a ride. She wasn’t going to cut him one inch of slack. He looked down and couldn’t help but admiring her ass as it swayed in front of him. The black leather hugged it, outlining every delicious curve, and he barely kept a groan from escaping. He clenched his hands into tight fists to keep from reaching out to touch the perfectly showcased cheeks. Yep, one hell of a ride—one he planned to take for the rest of his life.

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Chapter Four Rose’s head pounded as she stood under the hot spray of the shower. Since that horrible night Tammy was killed, her life had never been so out of control. How had she allowed herself to be caught by him? Knox Slade. A monster. A lycan. The thing she hated most. And why in the blazes did he have to be so damned good-looking? She shook her head and instantly regretted the action when pain sliced through her temple. Jumping out of a moving truck, no matter how slow it had been rolling, hadn’t been the wisest, best thought-out thing she’d ever done. Her head, shoulder, and knee ached like hell, but thankfully, the aspirin Knox had given her after he’d brought her some clean towels and one of his T-shirts to wear took the edge off. She had spare clothes in the truck, but she didn’t want to let him in on that because along with the clothes was a survival pack that she’d be able to use when she made her escape. So for now, she’d play the meek guest until an opportunity to run presented itself. She rolled her shoulders under the warm jets of water pelting her and rubbed the shampoo out of her thick hair. She wanted to condition it, knew she should since it would be next to impossible to get a comb through the thick mass if she didn’t, but she couldn’t muster up enough energy to do it. She turned the water off and stepped from the shower. While she toweled off, she looked around. She hadn’t really noticed much about the house when they’d come in because her head had been pounding so hard. The bathroom wasn’t anything special, but it was clean, comfortable, and she liked it. With a few feminine touches, it would be quite cozy. She rolled her eyes. Why would she care about adding any touches to it at all? She wouldn’t be here long. She slipped the T-shirt over her head, and it hung loosely, hitting just above the knees. She wrapped the towel around her head and looked for her clothes. She’d left them on the floor, but now they were nowhere to be found. She would have probably thrown out the horrible-smelling outfit, but it kind of irked her that Knox had taken them, especially while she’d been showering, no less. He had some nerve, and yet through the indignation she 27

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felt from his actions, a small shiver of heat slithered through her at the thought of him being in the same room while she stood naked in the shower. She rolled her eyes again. This was so not the time to find out her hormones were still intact. She’d never willingly let a lycan touch her, but why did the thought of Knox’s hands on her not disgust her quite as much as she thought it should? When she exited the bathroom, she found the bag that contained her clothes and survival kit lying on the big bed in the corner of the room. So much for keeping that a secret. She should have known that Knox would invade every aspect of her privacy. After all, he had come into the bathroom while she showered. She spun around at a noise behind her and tripped on her own tangled feet, but when she braced herself for the fall, big hands swept her upright before she made contact with the floor. “Damn, you move fast.” She glared up at Knox. And damn, he was big. Thank God he’d changed his blood-soaked shirt. While she didn’t feel too guilty about shooting him, she didn’t like seeing all the blood. “You already know I can move fast,” he mumbled. “Are you okay?” His brows drew down in obvious concern. “Yes.” His hands were warm and eased over her skin. She caught herself before she did something stupid, like whimper, at how good his touch felt. “How dare you come into the bathroom while I was showering?” “I didn’t peek.” He flashed a grin of straight white teeth. “Even though I wanted to.” His eyes slid down her body slowly, then back up until he was looking into her eyes. “I brought your bag in from the truck. Figured you’d want it, although I think I like my shirt on you quite a bit—kind of reminds me of a song I once heard. Besides, I couldn’t wait one more minute to get rid of your reeking clothes. They were stinking up the whole place.” She pulled away from him and looked around the bedroom. The bed, the dresser, the end tables were all masculine, but comfortable. She saw a couple of car magazines lying on the table beside the bed. “Is this your room?” “Yes, but it’s yours now. Unless you want to share?” “Um, nooooo.” 28

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“Your mouth says no, but why don’t I quite believe you?” Anger shot through her, and when she realized he was playing around with her, she got even angrier. “Don’t joke about things like that. I don’t find them funny. And, I would never, ever share a bed with you!” His smiling lips suddenly clamped together into a thin line, and he took two long steps toward her, pushing her back until the backs of her thighs bumped the bed. He stood so close, towered over her, and in that second she realized how dangerous this man really was. He was a predator, a dominant animal, and she had insulted him in the worst way. The heat from his body rolled off him and hit her in waves. “There’s no need for such insults, Rose.” He raised a hand toward her, and she flinched. His hand stopped inches from her cheek, and he sighed. “I told you I will never hurt you.” He rubbed his knuckles slowly down the side of her face, up to lightly skim the knot high on her forehead, and back down again. She fought the urge to lean into his caress. The light dusting of hair on the back of his fingers tickled her skin, and she barely caught a moan from escaping. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her in kindness. She didn’t like to be touched. It was too personal, made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. “So you’ve told me, but I still don’t understand why you think I’d believe you.” “I could have easily hurt you, or worse, many times over by now. As you can see, we are alone here, and I don’t have any buddies here to pass you around among, as you so bluntly put it earlier. I won’t let any harm come to you.” “It’s not in my nature to believe anything a lycan says. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you.” She was sorry too. Something inside her wished that he was just a normal man because even against her own nature, her own better judgment, she was drawn to him. She wanted to feel his caress, his lips on hers. She’d never been with a man. She’d dated a couple of boys before the incident with Russell, but after that, there hadn’t been time for a personal relationship. Up to this point, she hadn’t 29

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really thought much about it, or figured she’d missed out on anything, for that matter. Knox was making her feel differently, and while her mind screamed at her that it was wrong on so many levels, her body begged otherwise. If she gave in to him, she’d never forgive herself. She’d betray her best friend’s memory and everything she’d fought for. She couldn’t welcome the enemy into her bed, yet her breath hitched in her lungs when his midnight blue eyes glowed down at her. Her heart stuttered, and all the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this evaporated into thin air when his lips brushed hers. Fire shot straight between her legs, and a dull ache built low in her belly. His lips caressed her gently, barely touching her, as if coaxing her to accept him. He pushed the towel off her head and tangled his fingers in the hair at her nape, tugging her closer. “I have to taste you.” Before she could respond, he kissed her. His lips were firm but soft, and she moaned when his tongue danced along the seam of her mouth. He ignited an instant flame in her, and she strained toward him. When his tongue dipped inside and tangled with hers, fireworks shot off behind her eyelids, and she opened to his possession like a flower opening to the first rays of sun. He tasted wild, erotic, dangerous . . . safe? He confused her. He excited her. He inflamed her, but when his other hand trailed along her bare thigh, she froze. Her eyes widened, and she pushed at his chest. Her breaths came in ragged gulps, and she pressed her hand to her wet, kiss-swollen lips when he didn’t budge against her insistent shoving. “Stop thinking just for one minute, Rose, and feel. You responded to me. I felt it.” He wrapped his fingers around the hand she had pressed against her lips and brought it slowly to his mouth, where he licked and nipped gently at her palm. Heat infused her once again, and she leaned toward him, mesmerized by how soft his lips felt. How could he make her feel this way? Had she deprived herself of sexual experiences to the point that her body was no longer willing to play by her brain’s rules? There was surely no other 30

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explanation for letting a lycan touch her. He nipped her again, and when she gasped, his mouth shifted from her hand and fastened on her lips. The floor dropped out from under her, and she began floating in a swirling fantasy of heat and desire only Knox could show her. His tongue probed at her and slid deep before retreating and returning again. He expertly coaxed feelings from her she hadn’t known existed, a tempestuous yearning that had lain dormant within her, waiting for the right man to awaken it. She now clutched the front of his shirt with no further thoughts of pushing him away, and the hand he didn’t have tangled in her hair slid down her back and cupped her rear. He dragged her against him as he insinuated his thigh between her legs. She cried out when a delicious pressure built against her core and a rush of desire drenched her sheath, instinctively readying itself for his possession. She tilted her hips toward him, and he kissed his way to her ear. “That’s it. Take pleasure from me, sweetheart.” Her head fell back, and she peered up into his face from under halfclosed lids. His eyes glowed so bright she was mesmerized by their beauty for an instant before her mind jerked her back into reality. Her body screamed for her to let him continue touching, but her brain wouldn’t allow her to take pleasure from someone who was supposed to be her enemy. She stiffened and could see by the look in his eyes that he was aware she was no longer welcoming his caresses. Her lip curled, and she practically snarled at him. “Don’t ever touch me again, Knox, or I swear I will kill you.” “You can’t deny the chemistry between us. It’s too strong.” “There is nothing, nor will there ever be anything, between us. Please get out.” She barely suppressed the urge to squirm under his hot gaze while he watched her for several minutes before he finally left the room and shut the door behind him. She plopped onto the bed and willed her racing heart to calm down. What had she been thinking letting him kiss her and touch her like that? Horny. That’s what you were thinking. She had to find a way to get away from him and fast. 31

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She couldn’t risk getting entangled with the enemy. If she could find some way to escape him, she’d run without a backward glance. He would be one lycan who would get away, because she would never get near him again. **** Knox leaned his head against the door of the bedroom he’d just vacated, or more appropriately, had just been kicked out of. God, Rose was the sweetest thing he’d ever put his mouth on. He could still taste her on his lips. The subtle, yet unmistakable, muskiness of excitement his kiss had elicited from her had told him that she hadn’t been as unaffected by him she’d like him to believe. But how would he ever convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy? He let out a frustrated breath and started down the hall to the living room. Telling her everything was the only way he could think to earn her trust. If he could show her that not all lycans were monsters, maybe she’d begin to understand and see things in a new light. Maybe she’d be able to trust him. Besides, if he didn’t trust her, how was he supposed to expect her to confide in him? Whatever had happened in her past to make her hate his kind so vehemently had been monumental. He’d have to earn her trust somehow, and telling her about his kind was the first step. Without trust there would be no hope for any kind of relationship with her. Even he knew trust was the most important part of the foundation between a man and a woman, and he would do whatever he had to do to show her he deserved her loyalty. It was going to be a mighty bumpy road. The lady was bitter. Rogues had to be responsible for her deep-seated hatred of his kind. What had happened to her? He couldn’t think about it too much because the possibilities sent blinding rage boiling through his blood. In fact, at this moment he wanted to beat the shit out of something. No, not something—a bloody rogue. He waited until he could hear the soft, even breathing of Rose sleeping in the other room before he pulled the clean T-shirt he’d changed into earlier while she was showering over his head and shoved his jeans down his legs. 32

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The bandage he’d slapped over his wounds haphazardly to keep them from bleeding through his shirt stuck a little too well, and he winced when several of the hairs on his chest came off with it when he removed it. The wounds were already mending well, but he’d been looking forward to shifting to heal them the rest of the way. He stepped out into the cold night air and inhaled deeply, welcoming the familiar and soothing scent of evergreen trees, snow, and the coming storm. The wolf in him crouched, ready to spring free, to run wild. He welcomed the wolf. It was part of him, had been for his entire life, and they worked well as a team. He snorted. It wasn’t as if the wolf was a separate entity living inside him, always ready to get out. It was more like he had a split personality. Yet, that wasn’t exactly the right terminology either. While a man, he used the wolf’s instincts, power, cunning, but as a lycan, his human side withdrew more and let the predator have the reins. He would never hurt anyone in wolf form—he’d never hurt anyone period unless absolutely necessary—but he was wilder, freer, all dominant animal when shifted. He closed his eyes and let his lycan blood start the change. His fingernails elongated and twisted into claws that could rip the underbelly of a deer open in one smooth swipe. Since he was an ancient and capable of partial change, he could change as slowly or quickly as he liked. Rogues were not capable of partial change. An ancient in partial change was, at times, more lethal than one who’d shifted completely. Half lycan, half man was not an easy target to take down. He breathed in deep, welcoming the tingling of his skin as fur popped through every pore, as incisors elongated into fangs, as his muscles, bones, and tendons rearranged themselves to take wolf form. It didn’t hurt to change—only the first time hurt—but every change was an intense emotional ride. It was as if part of him was being stolen—an integral part of him, like his very essence—but just as the overwhelming urge to cry out from the loss took root, the essence was slammed back into him. It was as if each time he

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changed, the two parts that made him who he was tore apart and then knitted back together, the wolf part dominant while in lycan form. It wasn’t something he could easily explain. It was just one of those things you had to experience to understand the full meaning, like death. He stood for another moment before shifting completely, and jumped off the porch into the snow as the last golden hairs sprang through his skin. He howled as he ran over the snow-covered ground into the thick-treed forest, the wolf excited to be free. The wounds on his chest were already healing, and within seconds the last pricks of pain were gone. He stopped by a huge oak tree that was a marker for the property lines and rubbed against it before putting fresh claw marks down the trunk, next to several others he’d put there on previous occasions. The wolf insisted on marking its territory, and Knox had no problem allowing the behavior. It was a natural and effective warning to other lycans who might happen into the area. He yipped and turned to run some more, but had only gone a few miles when he picked up the hint of a strange scent. He stopped and turned in circles, his nose pointing in the air. He sniffed a few times before a low growl of warning sprang from his muzzle. It was the scent of a rogue, and the male was close, too close, to his female. He took off in the direction of the house, where Rose was sleeping, and prayed he made it there before the rogue.

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Chapter Five Rose shifted restlessly, trapped somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Her senses screamed that something was wrong, but her sore body demanded more sleep. Her inner alarm bells clanged to high heaven, and she could no longer fight the imminent warning. She cracked her eyes open and slowly scanned the dark room. She remained perfectly still, not allowing one muscle to move, not wanting to alert whatever or whoever had disturbed her sleep that she was awake. At that moment, the moon chose to slip out from whatever cloud it was hiding behind and shined through the window—the window she’d earlier found to be stuck shut when she tested it for a possible escape route—and cast a soft glow over the bed. A faint sound caught her attention. The scratching noise sounded as if someone were trying to pry the window open. Something or someone was trying to get into her room. She sat up slowly and reached for the bag Knox had brought in from her truck. She dug around in it for a weapon, but, of course, he’d removed them all. Thanks a lot, Knox. She had nothing, not even the dagger he’d returned to her in the woods, as he’d also taken it, along with her clothes, earlier. Now what am I going to do? She slid silently out of bed, tiptoed to the wall, and pressed her back against the cold wood just beside the window. She fought the shiver threatening to shake her body and rattle her teeth, more from fear than cold, as she took quiet, deep breaths. She hoped she was simply being paranoid, and that the wind would end up being the culprit that had made the noise, but the clang, clang, clang of her inner warning bells were telling her otherwise. She’d learned long ago not to ignore them, and she’d be a fool if she did so now. She inched closer, until she was standing next to the glass, cautiously leaned around to look out, and barely kept from screaming when she saw a huge gray wolf staring back at her, its front paws propped against the pane. She sprinted for the bathroom, the sound of shattering glass echoing throughout the room, and had just flung the door shut and braced herself against it when something slammed into it hard. The whole thing shook so 35

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hard her teeth clattered, and she was amazed it hadn’t shattered under the force. It took all her strength to hold the knob—why couldn’t it have a damn lock?—as it was jiggled furiously from the other side. A few seconds later, the jiggling stopped, and it was silent for a moment before something slammed into the door once again. This time, the force knocked her back, landing her hard on her backside. When she looked up, a man with hazel eyes and stringy black hair stood glaring at her. His eyes were glowing, and he was naked. Just what she needed. Another lycan to deal with, yet this one didn’t look as if he’d play by the same gentlemanly rules Knox did. Speaking of Knox. Where the hell are you? For one dreadful moment, she wondered if this could be a friend of his. She sincerely hoped not because this one creeped the hell out of her. She got to her feet slowly and took a self-defense stance. She’d been taught to run, when possible, if up against a stronger foe, but she had no choice in this matter—she was trapped. He was stronger, quicker, and she’d probably lose, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for the bastard. “Come with me, and I won’t hurt you.” He held his hand out to her. Was he freaking insane? Of course he is. He’s a fucking rogue. Did he think she was a dingbat or something? No, he probably didn’t think of her as much of anything other than a piece of meat or play toy. There was no way she was going to go with him anywhere willingly. “I don’t think so.” As much as it galled her to admit it, she really wished Knox would make an appearance right about now. “You have the scent. You belong to me. You don’t have a choice.” He sneered at her. “Last I checked, this was a free country, and we all have choices. I choose not to go anywhere with you.” He took a step toward her, and she crouched and put her fists up in front of her, readying to defend herself. He stopped, his nostrils flared, and his eyes glowed brighter. “I like a woman with some fight in her. You’ll be fun to break in.”

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“Believe me when I say, you won’t like me in the least when I kick your balls up in your throat, buddy. I wouldn’t ever let a scumbag like you touch me.” Her stomach churned, and bile burned the back of her throat. How many other women had he pulled this crap on? How many other women had he hurt? How she wished she had her bow or a dagger right now because she’d carve him a new one. He came at her. She dodged him and ran under his arm into the bedroom. But he was quick—as were all those damned lycans. He caught her around the waist and slammed her to the floor face-first. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and she gasped for air. He didn’t handle her with the gentleness Knox had. In fact, his weight pressed her so hard to the floor, she could barely breathe at all. She was going to black out if he didn’t let up a bit. He fisted her hair and yanked her over onto her back, but the moan of pain she craved to voice couldn’t escape her oxygendeprived lungs. “Yeah, you’re going to be real fun to play with.” She spit at him, and anger contorted his face. He raised his hand, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable blow to come, but it never did. Instead she found herself freed of the lycan’s weight. When she opened her eyes, Knox stood over her attacker, as naked as the lycan. Funny how she kept thinking of the rogue as a lycan, but not Knox, even though they were the same. A small voice inside her whispered that they weren’t the same, but she chose to ignore it and the implications it held. She scrambled up off the floor and ran out of the bedroom, a need to get away driving her to the front door. She hadn’t been scared in a long time, but the encounter with the rogue had unleashed the fear from the night Tammy had died, and it rushed her from every direction. She had to run as hard, as fast, and as far away as she could. Unfortunately, her terrified mind didn’t take time to remember the fact that it was freezing outside and that she only wore a T-shirt. By the time her legs started cramping from the exertion, she was shivering. **** 37

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Knox stood over the rogue, ready to kill him if he had to. The lycan struggled for breath through the hand Knox had clamped on his throat. “How dare you come into my home and threaten my mate? I will kill you for touching her. You do understand that it is my right to do so by lycan law?” “No! I was taught that any woman with the scent was ours to do with as we saw fit.” Knox shoved his face close to the rogue and spoke through clenched teeth, the need to kill him riding him hard. “I’m an ancient, pup, and I’m telling you that is some fucked-up information you were fed. It’s all lies. I’ll tell you something else. You have two options: first, I kill you, which is feeling pretty right to me at the moment, or second, you haul ass to Sanctuary for some reformation. Your choice, but make it quick.” The hesitation and fear that played over the pup’s face might have made Knox feel a bit sorry for him if Rose hadn’t been involved. “I don’t understand. I was doing what I was taught.” “You were taught wrong. Ancient law plainly states we are to protect any potential mate until the destined mate is found.” Knox squeezed the lycan’s throat tighter until he gasped harder for air. “Please. I don’t understand what you mean about destined mates!” the pup gasped, and his face started turning purple. The sadness that hit Knox was disheartening. How had his kind gotten so out of control? “I can only assume you’ve never been told that those that carry the main scent also have a mated scent. All those that carry the main scent are destined mates to one of our kind. That destined mate is the only one who can smell the mated scent. But I suppose the rogues you’ve been running with probably don’t know about that, or don’t give a shit about it themselves. Just think about all of the women you’ve seen used, abused, and think about how they were meant for one specific mate, and how important that pair would have been to our kind.”

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A complete and utter look of despair replaced the fear and confusion on the pup’s face. “I swear, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll go to Sanctuary. Please don’t kill me.” Knox held on to the throat of the pup for several more seconds, waging a war within himself. He wanted to kill him, but he could tell the rogue was being honest. He was good at detecting lies, and he would be willing to bet his life the pup was telling the truth. He’d chosen reformation, and Knox had to give him a chance to do as he said. He reluctantly loosened his grip. “The female you attacked is my destined mate. I can smell the second scent, which means she’s meant for me. You assaulted an ancient’s woman. By law, I could—probably should—kill you for your actions. You should have been protecting her, not accosting her. Those who carry the scent are essential to our survival. You have a lot to learn. I’m going after her now, and if you run, I will find you, and when I do, we go with the other option I mentioned, the one where you die. We understand each other?” “Yes.” The pup rubbed at his throat, where dark red, angry marks still marred the skin from Knox’s crushing fingers. “Wait here.” Knox led the rogue to the living room after getting him some clothes to put on and pointed him to the couch. “You better be here when I get back.” Knox quickly pulled the jeans, shirt, socks, and boots back on he’d left lying in front of the door earlier, and went after Rose. He wouldn’t track her down in wolf form because he didn’t want to frighten her more than she’d already been by the attack. What the hell was she thinking going out in the freezing cold and knee-deep snow in only a T-shirt? She could freeze to death, and he was going to tan her ass good for this one. He owed her two now. He gave the pup one last fierce glare before going out the door. Within moments he followed her scent and tracks. She hadn’t gotten far, but not far was too far in his opinion. He found her about three-quarters of a mile in the forest, and although she was still running, her pace was slow and clumsy. He caught her with ease, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. 39

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She cried out and turned on him with fear burning in her eyes—fear that tore at his heart and nearly brought him to his knees. Rage seared him from the inside, demanding the death of the pup for scaring her. Until he claimed her, put his mark on her, she would be in danger from every rogue who got close enough to smell her intoxicating scent—and even that wouldn’t be enough to stop some rogues, but it would certainly give most pause. She struggled against him, pummeled his chest with her fists, and he held her, trying to keep her from hurting herself. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she tired and went limp against him. He hugged her carefully and nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek. “Shhh.” He stroked her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “It’s okay, Rose. I’m here. Nothing can hurt you now.” When he realized she was now crying, his heart lurched in his chest. When he got back to the house, he was going to kill that bastard rogue for making her cry. Fuck the fact the pup had been misled. He’d scared Rose, and Knox wanted a piece of the little shit’s hide. “I’m sorry. I don’t ever cry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “You were attacked. It’s understandable. I hope you can forgive me for not getting to you sooner. I’m sorry.” She sniffed and rubbed her face on his shirt. “Can we talk a-about this later? I’m r-really cold.” “Son of a bitch.” He’d forgotten she was half-naked. He’d forgotten about everything except the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. He picked her up, and she snuggled against him. Shivers racked her body intermittently. “What were you thinking running out here in only a T-shirt? You could have frozen to death.” “I j-just needed to get away. I wasn’t thinking at all. I want to go home, Knox. Please l-let me leave.” He couldn’t, and he knew by the way she stiffened in his arms after he didn’t answer her that she was aware of it. “You must realize, especially after tonight, you aren’t safe. I can protect you.” 40

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“I don’t want to be protected. I’m not your property. I can take c-care of myself.” “Look, if you want to go home, I’ll take you. But I’m staying with you.” She sobbed again, and a dull ache throbbed in his chest with each beat of his heart. She didn’t understand fully why he couldn’t let her go, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it when she found out she was his mate. In fact, she would be spitting mad and probably try to kill him again. He wanted to hold off as long as possible with that information, but he hated lying to her—even by omission. She was his, and he wanted honesty between them, but at this point in the game, the truth would only serve to make things worse. He toed the door to the house open, and the pup jumped up from the couch. When Knox sat Rose down, she turned and shrieked when she saw the rogue. Before any of them could say a word, she’d punched the pup right in the nose, which put him in his current position—bent over wailing, trying to staunch the blood flow. Knox held Rose back when she went for the pup again. “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you. I swear.” He looked at the rogue, who was glaring at them. “Calm down, son. You and I both know you deserved much more than that. Now tell the lady you’re sorry before I turn her loose and let her have another go at you.” Knox took a step toward him. “And trust me when I tell you from personal experience that she can rearrange your nuts with little effort.” The pup’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, cupping his balls protectively. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice was nasal through the nose that was about twice the size it had been only a few moments ago. “Are you serious? You believe this asshole? He attacked me, Knox.” Rose spun on him. Her anger vibrated through the room. “Go to your room, and get in a hot bath. You need to warm up. I swear to you by the time you’re done, he’ll be gone, and we’ll have a long talk.” “I’m not a child. I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I’m not budging one inch until he’s out of here or dead—dead preferably.” 41

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Knox stared at her while she stood shivering, standing her ground. She looked like a fierce, sopping wet mop with tendrils of hair that hung in clumps around her shoulders and face. He had no doubt his little hellcat meant exactly what she said too. He let out an exasperated breath, motioned for the rogue to follow him outside, and shut the door behind them. “Sanctuary is about a hundred and fifty miles north of here. Head there now, and tell them I sent you when you get there. I’ve never been there personally, but they know who I am.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and gave the pup a card with his number on it. “Have them call me when you get there, and it better be by tomorrow afternoon at the latest, or I’m coming after you.” “But—” “Just shut up while you’re ahead of the game. You can find your way there. Now get going, and I better get that call.” He watched the pup walk away in a dejected manner fitting of a teen who’d been thoroughly chastised, slumped shoulders and all. While the rogue had been rough with Rose, Knox was aware he could have done way more damage to her than he had. If he had, he wouldn’t be walking away now. It was hard for him to let him do so now. He’d seen his share of rogues, and this particular one seemed a good candidate for reformation. He reminded him of a lost dog that had been kicked around one too many times. The pup seemed to have attacked more out of fear and confusion than meanness. He hoped he would learn and come to understand the importance of their laws because they needed all the help they could get for the fight for their survival. But only time would tell. If he strayed again, there wouldn’t be another chance. Knox turned and walked toward the small shed beside the house. Inside he got some boards, a hammer, and nails to fix the broken window in the bedroom. When he got back to the house, he was relieved to hear the bath running. He and Rose were going to have a long talk, and it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park trying to get her to understand the big picture where his race was concerned.

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Chapter Six Knox had been wrong to let the lycan go. The rogue had attacked her, and if Knox hadn’t shown up when he had . . . A sliver of dread tingled in her spine. Would she have suffered the fate Tammy had all those years ago? While she’d come to terms that this job would get her killed at some point in time, she’d also pushed it to the back of her mind. The last several hours shoved the point to the forefront of her denying brain. At least she’d gotten a punch in on the bastard before he’d been sent on his merry way. Yet even the satisfaction she’d gotten from breaking his nose was short-lived, since it was probably healed by now. She shook her head in disgust as the warm bathwater soaked into her chilled skin, finally warming her enough to stop the shivers that had pulsed through her. She and Knox would never see eye to eye. He wanted her to trust him. She could see it on his face plain as day every time he looked at her. She’d even begun to think that maybe there was a small possibility she could do so, until now. She was well aware that her hormones had probably been the cause of that wishful thinking and had nothing to do with the cold truth of reality. But she’d never been kissed like he’d kissed her. He’d not only kissed her, he’d touched her like she was the most precious gem in the world. When he kissed her, she’d felt as if he was laying claim to her soul, imprinting himself on her forever. She’d burned under his expert ministrations, and she’d craved more, yearned to submit to his every demand. She’d wanted to make him go up in flames as she had, but it could never be. She couldn’t fraternize with the enemy no matter how much she wanted to, and oh, how she wanted to. Was it so much to ask that the first time she met a man she wanted he’d be human? She nearly laughed out loud. A human male would never cut it either. She’d never subject another to the danger that surrounded her. Knox would be the death of her, maybe not in the physical sense, but he’d play the starring role in the demise of her heart. She’d allowed herself to feel too much for him, and she had to put an end to it before it was too late. She had to leave—tonight. It would be difficult at best to escape him, but she 43

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would figure out how to do it somehow. She squared her shoulders in determination and started devising a plan. Once her iron will was set on something, she very rarely failed. The first thing she’d do once she escaped Knox was find that little bastard he’d let go and do the world a favor by ridding it of him. The rogue had scared her, and she didn’t like to be scared. Fear made her feel weak, helpless, and it dug up memories of the past she preferred to keep buried. She sat up and reached for a towel before standing. Water sloshed down her legs, and the cool air hit her, sending goose bumps scattering over the surface of her skin. She could hear thunk, thunk, thunk in the bedroom and assumed Knox was fixing the window that had been broken by the rogue. She drained the tub, dried off, and dressed in jeans, thick socks, boots, and a hoodie pulled over a T-shirt. She always wore sensible cotton panties, but never a bra. She hated the damn things, and had never found one that was comfortable. Thankful to be in her own clothes again, she glanced at Knox’s discarded shirt on the floor, quickly picked it up, and tucked it into her bag before she combed her hair and gave her teeth a quick brush. She didn’t quite understand what had made her put his shirt in her bag, but for some peculiar reason, she wanted to hang on to it. She took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, but stopped just short of touching it. She didn’t want to go out there while he was still there. When he was near, her common sense liked to flee in happy surrender. She listened until the banging and shuffling stopped, then waited a few moments more in the silence before going back into the bedroom. The window was boarded over, and Knox was gone. She set her bag on the bed and paced the floor, barely noticing its creakity creaks under her steps. She knew he wanted to talk to her about tonight’s events, probably even try to convince her that he’d been right in sending the lycan away instead of killing him. She jumped when a knock sounded on the door. “Yes?” “We need to talk.” Knox’s voice came muffled through the door.

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She looked around and quickly decided talking in the bedroom probably wasn’t the best idea, afraid of what her hormones may encourage her to do. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Time to put her plan into action. She’d listen and do her part in making him believe she was coming around to his way of thinking. She’d act as if she were entertaining the idea of agreeing with his view of things, lull him into a false sense of security, one that would hopefully lower his guard of her enough to allow her escape. She pushed aside the fact that deceiving him felt wrong, tamped it down and locked it away. When she stepped out into the hall, the smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, and her stomach growled in protest. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Too long. She’d never been happier that she wasn’t a vegetarian—even if she was, the delectable aroma of beef might be enough temptation to turn her. She followed the mouthwatering trail to the kitchen, where Knox was standing by a stove, turning over two of the largest steaks she’d ever seen. His back was to her, and she couldn’t help but admire the broad width of his shoulders. She felt fragile, feminine around him, and strangely that turned her on more than irritated her. “I don’t follow a regular eating schedule. I’m sorry. I should have fed you before now. I hope you like steak, baked potatoes, and salad.” He glanced over his shoulder at her before checking the oven. “Sounds good. Do you need help with anything?” “You can pour the tea. The glasses are in the cabinet to my right, and the tea’s in the fridge.” She found the glasses, filled them with tea, and checked the freezer for ice. She was happy there was ice because she loved lots of it in whatever she happened to be drinking—including milk. After refilling the trays and putting the half-empty pitcher back in the fridge, she carried the glasses to the small wooden table that sat in a nook off the kitchen, beside a bay window. She noticed the two bowls of salad on the counter and went to get them. Her stomach growled again when she saw the crisp lettuce topped with cherry tomatoes, cheese, cucumbers, and croutons.

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“Dressing is in the fridge too,” he said as he slid the two steaks onto separate plates. “Ranch or Italian?” she asked. “Ranch. Thank you.” She poured a bit of ranch on both salads, put the dressing back, and followed Knox to the table. He set a plate down in front of her before getting the butter and sour cream from the fridge. “Do you need salt or pepper?” “No. This looks wonderful. Thank you, Knox.” He gave her a curt nod, and she had a feeling he wasn’t happy about the conversation that was about to take place between them. He wasn’t the only one. She was about to lie to him, and she didn’t like to lie to anyone, even if it was for her own benefit. He handed her a fork and knife, and they began to eat. She groaned when the rich flavor from the first bite of steak exploded against her tongue. The man could cook. The meat was done to perfection. Moist, tender, a bit pink inside, but no blood—just like she preferred. She noticed his was a bit rarer. “Good, huh?” He smiled and took a big bite before closing his eyes and chewing as if savoring every second of the succulent meat. “Mmm. Yes. You are an excellent cook.” She took another bite and almost choked when he smiled and trained those hot midnight eyes on her. Her insides started to melt much like the steak had in her mouth. How could he do that to her with one simple heated glance? “I wouldn’t say I’m an excellent cook, but if a man should know anything, it should be how to cook a steak properly.” They continued to eat in silence until she’d eaten almost half of the food, and she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to ask him the question that had been nagging at her. “Why did you let the lycan go? He attacked me.” She chewed as she watched him, waiting for an explanation. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and once again he trained those searing eyes on her. 46

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Heat built slowly deep in her belly as she sat nearly mesmerized under his watchful gaze, watching his lips, waiting in anticipation for his answer. “Because I don’t think what he did was something he had ever done before. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kill him just for touching you— would have without second thought if he had left a mark on you—but I have a duty to my race. We have to try to save the rogues with potential. The lycans are starting to die out.” “Why?” For some odd reason she felt sorry for him, even though the demise of the lycans had been her main goal. “I know you think you know a lot about us, but it seems that you’ve only seen one side of our race—the rogue side. You’ve based all of your feelings on the actions of the ones we are trying hard to suppress. Rogues do not represent a true lycan’s nature. Do you understand the difference between a rogue and me?” She thought about it for a moment and realized she had branded all lycans alike—mean, brutal, and bloodthirsty—but Knox didn’t seem that way. She’d never deny he was a predator, and was sure he could and would be lethal if the situation called for it. She hadn’t missed the way the anger had burned in his eyes when he’d found her in the woods, and had been fairly certain most of it had been directed at the rogue rather than at herself. Had she allowed one instance, albeit brutal as it was, to be the precedent for her judgment of an entire race—a race she was now learning she might have badly misjudged? Yes, because she hadn’t considered the possibility that there was any other type of lycan but an evil one. “No.” “Rogues are lycans that have no guidance or fall into the wrong pack at a young age. They are no different than misguided, abused, or neglected kids. Rogues believe that those marked with the main scent are to be used for their own pleasure. They have tortured, raped, and killed potential mates to the point where we are on the verge of extinction. I, along with many others, am an ancient, and the ancients abide by ancient law. All potential mates with the main scent are supposed to be protected until their destined mate is found. It is essential for our survival.” 47

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Her stomach started to churn slowly as the weight of his words came down on her. “What do you mean ‘destined mate’? And how can you be certain there is a destined mate for one who has the scent?” He pinned her with his stare as if he was afraid she was about to run and he could hold her in the chair with his eyes. “Everyone who has a main scent also has a mated scent. All lycans can detect the main scent, which is how we know to protect potential mates, but the mated scent can only be detected by one lycan—the destined mate.” “Are you trying to tell me that I am supposed to breed with a lycan?” She set her fork and knife down as the implication of his words made her heart pound in her chest. She’d known about the main scent from the start, courtesy of Russell, but she’d had no idea about this second scent. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. Only know that you do have the main scent, and any lycan that gets near you will scent it. You are in danger from rogues.” “I have always been in danger, but I’m good at what I do. You are the only one—well, the second one—who has gotten close to me.” Then it dawned on her. She’d almost killed Knox. How many others had she killed mistakenly, taking them for rogues? My God, how many innocent lycans have I murdered? Knox leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin on his hands. He was close enough that the warmth of his skin seeped into her leg. She was beginning to think that maybe she was no better than the supposed monsters she’d hunted over the years. She’d never stopped to consider that there were good and bad lycans. “Hey.” Knox waited until she looked at him to continue. “I’d be willing to bet that the only lycans you’ve killed have been ones that have deserved it. You’d never get an ancient.” “I almost got you.” She cringed when he smiled. This was no laughing matter. “You didn’t almost get me. Yeah, you shot me, but it would have taken much more than that to take me down. You are good at hunting, but I’m better. Besides, I was aware that you had been following me for nearly a 48

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month before you tagged me, almost had you a few times, but you were always smarter than I gave you credit for. Of course, I did think you were only an overzealous hunter for the most part. I never really took you seriously, thought you’d either eventually give up or I’d catch you. “I found it a mystery as to why you were following me in the first place. It was disconcerting to think a human might be hunting me because I was a lycan. That knowledge could end up being the end of all lycans. I couldn’t have realized how close to the truth I actually was. And it was all due to the careless behavior of a rogue.” She sucked in a breath. How had he known that? She hadn’t told him about Tammy or that horrible night, although, she supposed it was a logical assumption on his part. “How did you know that?” “I didn’t, lucky guess, but now I know. Is that where you got the scars on your legs?” His eyes glowed, and his lips tightened into thin lines. “I didn’t realize you’d noticed them.” He must have seen them when he’d carried her back to the house while she’d been wearing only his T-shirt. “I got them later, after I’d found out about lycans. They are badges of war, I assume much like the ones you wear.” “I notice everything about you, Rose.” Her eyes widened in surprise when another thought occurred to her. “How did you know I’d been following you for a month? I used the deer urine, and no other lycan has ever caught on before.” “Rogues haven’t been around as long as ancients. The deer urine trick is a good one, but if you’re going to follow a lycan around for longer than a day or two, you should probably get more than one bottle. After all, what are the chances of that same deer following you around place to place? I was on to you within the first couple days, but you are good. I’ll give you credit for that. Every time I thought I had you, you’d disappear like smoke.” She hadn’t thought about a lycan scenting the same urine from the same bottle, but it was a logical conclusion that she should have come to. She was beginning to realize how much of a role luck had played in her survival all these years. She had skills, but her approach had not been infallible. 49

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“I think you and I are closer to being on the same page than you think. I hunt rogues. If I think they have a chance to be reformed, they get that chance. Otherwise . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t have that luxury. I kill all the ones I can.” “Do you still believe I should be killed? I am a lycan, but I am also a man. I don’t hurt others, Rose. I don’t enjoy inflicting pain on anyone, and I don’t like to kill others of my kind, even though sometimes it’s necessary. I think you are narrow-minded on this subject. After all, we aren’t all that unlike humans. There are good people, bad people, murderers, molesters, and every other type, but you don’t go around killing everyone you come across because some of them are monsters. Yet, that’s what you chose to do with us. Why?” She couldn’t deny he had a point, and she couldn’t say that she believed he deserved to die now after spending time with him, but she couldn’t allow any of the real monsters to get away. All it took was one to wreak havoc on someone’s life, just one to create a tragedy that could kill or scar emotionally for a lifetime. If she had it in her power to make sure not even one more person like Tammy died because of these monsters, she had to continue on. But Knox isn’t a monster, is he? **** Knox watched the uncertainty dance over her beautiful features. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was finally getting through to her. She looked as if she was beginning to better understand lycans, and if that was so, she was probably also feeling a bit torn about some of the things she’d done in the past. “Don’t do that to yourself.” She looked at him with her pale blue eyes, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her, taste her, breathe her essence into his soul, where she would remain for eternity. “Do what?” she asked quietly.

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“I already told you, chances are, until me, all the lycans you’ve come across have been rogue. An ancient would never try to hurt you, nor would one be easy to take out, as you’ve found out.” She watched him, and anger colored her cheeks as her brows drew down and her full lips pulled into thin, straight lines. “So what am I supposed to do when I come across one of your kind? Wait to see if he wants to rape me or take me home and protect me before killing him? Or maybe I should just say, ‘Hey, I’m Rose. Are you a rogue or an ancient? Just wondering because I didn’t know if I should kill you or not.’” He understood her logic, but she was missing the point altogether. She shouldn’t be hunting lycans at all. He got sick to his stomach when he thought about how many times she’d exposed herself to danger, and how long she’d been doing so. “How about you don’t put yourself in that position to begin with? There is no reason for you to do so. There are others like me who are working to bring our race back under control and instill the ones who have strayed with the honor we pride ourselves on.” But something was driving her to do what she did, and he wanted her to trust him enough to tell him. He knew, better than most, that the only way to heal old wounds was to deal with them head-on. The worst thing to do was submerge yourself into the dire muck of desire for revenge. There was never a satisfactory outcome for revenge. Revenge only bred more contempt and anger. “Tell me.” “Tell you what?” “Why you hate us so badly.”

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Chapter Seven Rose had vowed never to speak aloud of it again after Russell, but it might be her only way to gain Knox’s trust so she could escape. Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny that there was a part of her that wanted to tell him, confide in him what had happened, what had hurt her so badly. To share it with someone was a luxury she’d never had, and to talk to someone who wouldn’t think she was crazy, someone who would understand her story, someone who knew that lycans were real was an opportunity she never thought to have. But if she told him, she’d be connected to him forever. A small part of her that she’d never shared with anyone would be his, and she’d feel . . . vulnerable. Yet it came full circle to getting him to trust her so she could make her escape. The problem was she wanted to trust him as well. But would she feel right about duping someone whom she trusted? That’s when she realized she didn’t just want to trust him—she needed to. After that thought occurred, she refused to contemplate the why of it any further. “Where did you send that bastard that attacked me?” She watched the hesitation play across his handsome features and wondered if he’d lie or simply flat-out refuse to tell her. When he cringed, the scars running over his face puckered a bit more, and she sympathized with the pain he must have endured from the injury, but then she realized that those scars should have healed if lycan lore were true about shifting being able to heal wounds. She watched as he carried his empty plates to the sink, rinsed them off, then carried her own over and followed suit. “I sent him to a place up north called Sanctuary. There is a pack up there led by ancients who run a reformation program for rogues.” While he hadn’t given her an exact location—“up north” could mean northern Michigan or Canada, for all she knew—he hadn’t lied to her, or at least she didn’t believe he had. She nearly laughed. Had she expected him to give her an address? Her gut told her Sanctuary was in northern Michigan,

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and she hoped to check it out soon for herself. When he turned, she stared at the scars again, and he ran his fingers over them. Her fingers acted before her brain could stop them, and reached up to smooth over the lines one by one. He sucked in a breath at her touch, and she jerked her hand back once she realized what she’d been doing. “Sorry.” “You can touch me anytime you like, Rose. But don’t do so unless you really mean it.” His eyes glowed. Her stomach did a funny flop before heat settled between her thighs, she took a step back, and swallowed hard. “Why did they not heal?” “I got them when I was younger. I was knocked unconscious for three days, and by the time I shifted, for some reason the scars remained. It happens on occasion, rarely.” He shrugged. “Guess I was one of the lucky ones. And, Rose, I know what you’re doing.” “Huh?” “You’re stalling. Please, tell me why you hate my kind so much.” He followed close behind when she made her way to the living room. She sat on the dark brown leather sofa, and he sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his thigh next to her. She opened her mouth to explain several times, but the words lodged in her throat, refusing to surface. When he laid his hand over hers where it rested on her leg, she felt comforted by his touch. She didn’t want to feel comforted by him, but her body gave her no choice in the matter. “My friend was murdered by a lycan. Now you know.” Her stomach churned, and she took a deep breath to calm the roiling that threatened to toss up the wonderful dinner she’d just eaten. He slowly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and even though she knew he was doing it to soothe her, a spark of desire shot through her. His fingers were long and strong, the knuckles dusted with golden blond hair. They were hands made for fighting. They were hands made for loving, and she fought the urge to close her eyes and revel in his magical caresses.

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“I think there is a bit more to it than that.” He leaned closer and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. “While the taking of a friend in itself is enough to spark a need for revenge, it usually does not keep that fire of anger lit indefinitely.” He leaned closer still. “Tell me.” His whispered words were so close to her ear, his hot breath fanned across her cheek. Suddenly, she found herself pouring out the whole ordeal that had taken place that night with Russell and the horrible, ill-fated party she and Tammy had gone to. When she was done, she was surprised to find she was crying. Twice in one day now, and she never cried. Strangely, instead of being flooded with the turmoil of sadness and anger she thought she’d feel at telling someone, an eerie calm settled through her. The deep glow in Knox’s eyes said effectively—no words needed—that he was ashamed and angered by what his kind had done. “I’m sorry. This is why we are trying to get the rogues under control. You should have been protected, along with the other girls, not brutalized. I cannot tell you how much your suffering pains me. I know you are still having a difficult time believing me when I say we are not all like that, but it’s true. I would never harm you or another who carried the scent. Neither would many others I know. I wish I had found you back then, before all of that happened. I would have never let the rogue hurt you or your friend. It’s a tragic loss for you, and for three of my brethren who will never have the opportunity to know their mates.” “It’s not your fault, Knox. You can’t be held accountable for things out of your control.” And that was exactly the message he was trying to convey to her, wasn’t it? She couldn’t be responsible for taking out an entire race because of one incident that had affected her. She couldn’t base her whole life on revenge and vengeance. It had slowly eaten away at her over the years, and it would continue to do so until she became someone she didn’t want to become. Someone with no feelings, no remorse—a former shell of herself. She’d already started down that path, and if she’d made it to the threshold and stepped over, she’d never be herself again.

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Still, how was she supposed to live with the knowledge of the rogue lycans and not do anything to help stop their actions against the innocent? Then it dawned on her. Instead of fighting out of anger and vengeance, she should have been fighting for a better future for all those affected, including herself. She couldn’t continue to kill every lycan she came across after meeting Knox. If she had succeeded in killing him, she would have taken out an integral part of keeping the lycans under control. A sinking feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach when realization swirled inside her. Her goal had been focused on wiping out an entire species, but Knox had been focused on saving his race by eliminating those who threatened their survival. If she had succeeded in killing him, it may have, in fact, aided the existence of lycans since Knox would have been unable to further help keep the rogues under control. Her need for revenge had blinded her to the bigger picture. She looked into his glowing eyes, and desire for him hit her hard and spiraled out of control. While she was willing to admit that he wasn’t the monster she’d originally believed him to be, she didn’t think she was ready to explore sex with the one thing she’d hated for so long. But, God, she wanted him like she’d never wanted any man. She already knew what his soft, firm, full lips felt like—fire and every delectable, forbidden thing in life. He tasted of the woods and wilderness, wild, free, and dangerous. He cupped her nape and brought his mouth to hers before she had fully convinced herself that this was a bad idea. When his lips touched her, all rational thought disappeared like smoke in the wind. He kept the kiss gentle and slowly dipped his tongue into her mouth. She groaned, and he growled low before slanting his head further to the side to deepen the thrust of his tongue. The kiss soon built and went from coaxing to dominating. She’d never understood the appeal of domination, but now that Knox was leaning over her, kissing her, she shivered in excitement at the thought of submitting to his every request, of being the one to fulfill his every need, of having every one of her needs fulfilled by him. His hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her bare breast, and when he rolled the stiff peak of her 55

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nipple between his fingers, heat spread deep down in her belly and rushed to her core. Her skin was so overly sensitized that she was truly amazed it didn’t hurt when he touched her. Instead his fingers left a trail of hot, achy, needy want behind. Her hands came up of their own accord and skimmed over his shirt, along the hard planes of his pecs, and down across chiseled abs. He was hard, unyielding under her fingers, and he growled low when she slid her palms back up and over his chest. The growl encouraged her boldness, and she gently tweaked one of his nipples through the fabric before running her hand down his side, over his hip, and let it rest on his muscular thigh. She wanted to slide her fingers further, until they made contact with his cock, but before she could do so, he expertly rolled her to her back and covered her with his big body, taking her lips once again before the erotic haze cast over her mind could clear. His knee came up and wedged between her legs, and she tightened her thighs around him. He moved against her in a rhythm that encouraged her to raise her hips against him, enhancing the delectable friction building inside her. She gasped into his mouth when he came into contact with her most sensitive part, and nearly cried out at the intense pleasure that ripped through her, threatening to tear her apart. He increased the rhythm, and she strained against him, begging for more. The pressure built, and Knox trailed his lips along her jaw, down her neck, and over one breast, where he tongued her through her shirt. The riptide of her orgasm shot through her when he bit down gently on one nipple, and she cried out as she rode his thigh in unabashed abandon. **** Knox thought he might explode at any minute. He’d not felt this out of control since he’d been a young pup full of hormones, but damn if Rose didn’t make him feel like a randy teenager again. He bit down gently on her nipple, tonguing the hard pebble through her shirt while she rubbed against 56

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his thigh. She was close. He could feel the tension building in her body, scent her excitement, and within moments her body jerked and she cried out, and he had no choice but to watch her lovely face as she came. Her pale eyes were wide, staring at him in wonder as she clamped her legs around him and undulated against his thigh. Her hair flowed wildly around her head, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He ached to shred their clothing and bury himself deep inside her while she rode out the last waves of her orgasm, yearned for her slick heat to surround him, her muscles to clench and unclench around him, wanted to feel her welcome him . . . home. But the hazy cloud of desire wore off fast, and he was aware of the very instant her eyes cleared from the fog of her orgasm. He’d gone too far too fast. She’d only just trusted him enough to tell him about what had happened to her friend, and instead of comforting her, he’d jumped her. What the hell was wrong with him? He sat up and shook his head in exasperation. He had no control around her. Once he touched her, he was lost, lost in the urge to take her, lost in the overwhelming need to love her, lost to everything but the taste, feel, and scent of her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He stood, hoping to ease the pressure of his cock straining against his jeans. When she didn’t say anything, he turned to find her staring at him. A mix of confusion and anger marred her lovely features. A tickle of warning on the back of his neck told him he’d fucked up. What had he done now? “You’re sorry?” The barely whispered words would have been missed by most. He’d heard them, though, and now when her eyes fell to the floor, he wanted to kick himself. He was so out of practice with women. He’d insulted her. He went to her and kneeled beside the couch. “I didn’t mean—” Before he could tell her that he’d only meant that he was sorry he’d taken advantage of her in her vulnerable state, she scrambled off the couch and fled to the bedroom. Yeah, he was really out of practice where women were concerned. He wanted to go after her, make her listen to his explanation. He 57

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wanted her to know that there was no other woman for him, that he had barely been able to keep from ripping her clothes off and taking her on the couch as she came apart under him. Yet, he wasn’t so out of practice that he didn’t know she needed some breathing room. He did remember that about women. Once you hurt them, give them a tad bit of space—not too much, so it didn’t seem like you didn’t care—or you’d risk cornering a spitting mad she-devil. And Rose had the skills to make him hurt, not to mention that he’d probably deserve whatever she dished out to him. He’d never lay a hand on her to stop the punishment either. He might restrain her, might hold her down—his cock pulsed again at the thought. He growled in frustration and reached down to adjust himself. The prospect of constraining her was exciting not only to him as a man, but also to the predator. The wolf craved domination. He started down the hall, ready to ignore the giving-her-some-space rule, and changed direction at the last second, going to the kitchen instead. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair in agitation. Give her a few minutes, and then explain everything to her. He wanted to go to her now. Ten minutes. Give her ten minutes. She was his mate, and it was time for her to know the truth. If there was any chance for them, he had to be completely honest with her. He had to tell her everything, including how iron was the true weakness of the lycans. He wasn’t a praying man, but at that very moment, he asked the gods above to make her understand the huge risk he was taking and the amount of confidence he put in her hands by telling her. Still, no matter how much information he gave her about his kind, none of it weighed on him as heavily as how she would react when she found out she was his—a lycan, the thing she obviously hated most in the world. How would she deal with it? He now understood how her hatred had reached such depths, as he would feel no different if it had happened to him. No, that wasn’t exactly the truth. While Rose was by no means weak in his eyes, he was a man, a lycan, and would have had different choices of recourse. As a lycan, he would have been able to react swiftly and deadly,

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while as a human, she would have had to tread carefully, learn her foe, and deal with fear along with things she never knew existed. But it wasn’t healthy to hang on to such hatred for so long. She had to deal with it, let it go, and move on, or it would tear her apart and do irreparable damage. He felt some relief knowing she’d gone great lengths to dealing with it when she’d confided in him. He was no psychologist, but talking about things was always a step in the right direction to healing. Knowing that she’d never told anyone her story, never trusted anyone enough to do so, boded well for him, gave him some measure of confidence that maybe she was beginning to view him as a man and not just a monster. Or had it been the simple fact that he already knew of the existence of lycans and wouldn’t automatically think she was crazy that made her confide in him? He hoped it was more than that.

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Chapter Eight Rose paced in the bedroom. What the hell had she done? She’d almost slept with a lycan, and had enjoyed every minute of his caresses and kisses. Her body still burned from the orgasm he’d given her. She’d been ready to throw caution to the wind before he’d said he was sorry. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he was sorry? The bastard. She wasn’t sure if she was more angry or hurt at his rejection. And why had she told him so much about the night Tammy died? She’d planned to tell him as little as possible, just enough to earn his trust. But once she’d started talking to him, everything, every single detail from that night had flowed from her as if she were confessing her deepest secret to someone she’d known forever, someone she felt comfortable with, someone she . . . trusted? No! She had to get away from him before she made a mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life. She couldn’t sleep with him. But you know you want to. Yes. She did want to. She wanted him in every way. She wanted his mouth on her while he slid that wondrous cock of his deep inside her. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist as he rode her until the force of their release crashed through them. She wanted to lie in his arms afterward while he spooned her, and drift asleep as he held her. Ridiculous. She’d never wanted that from any man. Knox isn’t just any man. No, he’s a fucking lycan. Why was she having such a hard time remembering that about him? She grabbed her bag and decided now was as good a time as any to put her plan into action. She had to go, now, tonight, before it was too late for her heart, although she had a sinking feeling it might well already be too late. So much had changed in such a short time, and she had some serious thinking to do. She now realized hunting the lycans hadn’t been something she’d been doing for the good of humankind, but something she’d been using as an excuse to run from her own problems. Hunting them had been an enabler, an enabler that spurred her on and fed her lust for revenge. She had to sort those problems out, get her head on straight, and decide what she 60

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was going to do with her life. She couldn’t soul-search around Knox and his judgment-clouding gorgeous body and smoldering eyes. The passion to help others would always be a part of her, but she didn’t think she was cut out to continue killing lycans. Killing wasn’t who she was, and while she’d be able to do it without guilt if faced with no other choice, doing it out of vengeance was taking a toll on her. It was destroying her bit by bit. She had to find a new purpose for her life, one that would bring her satisfaction and less blood on her hands. She took off her clothes, put on some sweats and an old shirt—her choice of sleeping attire—and placed the clothes she’d been wearing on top of the duffel bag for easy access. While she was upset by the fact that Knox had taken her weapons, she hoped he hadn’t found the ones she had hidden in the truck, or the spare key. The key was hidden well, but she knew better than to underestimate Knox. He’d proven more than difficult to pull one over on. This would work. It had to. She yanked the thin gold band from her right ring finger and slid it into the side pocket of the duffel. Okay, time to put on the act of your life, Rose. She rubbed at her eyes until she was sure they were red and swollen, then thought about Tammy and the lycans who’d attacked them, and all the other times she’d been scared or alone or tired. Surprisingly, the tears came easily. Three times in one day— she was turning into a sissy. She curled up on the bed and sobbed louder and louder. Finally, just when she was about to give up, she heard a soft knock on the door. She didn’t answer, certain he’d come to her rescue anyway. It was in his character, and he wouldn’t change now—especially when she was counting on that characteristic so heavily. And the bad thing was, she felt guilty for using such an honorable trait against him. “Rose?” She continued crying, and soon the mattress dipped behind her. Knox’s warm hand rested on her shoulder, and for a second she wanted to forget the whole plan, curl into him, and soak up the comfort he offered. “Tell me.” He rubbed her back in a soft circular motion. “Go away, Knox.” 61

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“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Guilt ripped through her, but why should she feel guilty about deceiving him? He’d kidnapped her. Yeah, but you tried to kill him. No. She had to follow this through, needed to get away from him before he wiggled any further into her head and heart. “I lost my mother’s ring.” She held her hand up so he could see the indention of where the ring used to reside on her finger. “She gave it to me right after Tammy was killed. I’ve never taken it off, and now it’s gone.” “Do you remember the last time you had it?” he asked her softly. “I think I lost it in the woods after the rogue attacked me. I was s-so cold. It must have just slipped off when I was running.” He pulled her toward him, and she buried her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn’t see through her ruse. She breathed him in deep, and almost sighed out loud, when the familiar woodsy, wild scent flowed into her. “I’ll find it for you. Don’t worry. If it’s in the woods, I’ll find it.” “Really? You’d do that for me?” He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. Her breath stilled for a moment at the sheer masculine beauty of him. “I would do anything for you.” His lips brushed hers lightly before he stood. “I’m so tired. I’m going to try to sleep for a bit.” She curled back on her side, and sighed when he tenderly pushed her hair from her forehead. Why would he do anything for her? Why was he so concerned over her? It was so out of character from everything she’d learned about lycans, but Knox was a man as well. And from everything she’d witnessed, he was a kind man, but the wolf that lived inside him was a dangerous predator. “That’s a good idea. It’ll be dawn soon. I’m going to find your ring, and it’ll be here when you wake up.” He bent and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. He left the room and quietly closed the door. She lay still and listened while he moved around the house for a few moments, and then heard the unmistakable opening and closing of the front door. It had worked. She’d wait ten minutes, then haul ass. That should give him enough time to get 62

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deep enough into the woods where he wouldn’t be able to catch her, even with his speed, once she was in the truck and heading out. She got up, quickly stripped, grabbed the clothes she’d placed on top of the duffel earlier, and hastily dressed before shoving the sweats and shirt back inside. She pulled Knox’s T-shirt—the one she’d worn—from the bag and spread it over a pillow she’d tucked under the blanket so her scent would remain strong in the room if he looked in on her. Hopefully, the dark and the scent would buy her more time, but she wasn’t counting on it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was after her as soon as she started down the drive, which meant she had to move fast and precisely, without making a mistake. She lifted the duffel over her shoulder, tiptoed out into the hall and to the front door. She stepped out onto the porch, looked around, and cocked her head to the side to listen. When she heard nothing but silence, she sprinted to the truck, threw the duffel in, and jumped up into the driver’s seat. She softly pulled the door closed so it only made a quiet click, reached under the seat, and felt for the small tear in the fabric, praying the hiding place had been good enough. She worked her finger under the tear and pulled out the spare key. A big grin crossed her face. Ha! Got one over on you. She put the key in the ignition and popped the truck into gear, letting it roll forward—thanking Knox all the way for turning the pickup around and facing it toward the road. Fortunately, luck was on her side, and the driveway was on a small downgrade, which allowed her to roll further than she’d hoped before starting it up. The engine was quiet, and she hoped if Knox heard it—and he would—he’d think it a vehicle passing in the distance on the main road. She fought the urge to slam her foot down on the gas, and let the truck glide slowly to the main road. If she goosed it, he’d immediately know something was up. Once she turned onto the road, she stopped fighting the urge and put her foot to the floor. Her heart raced and her breathing came in shallow pants as she watched the mirrors, fully expecting to see Knox chasing her, but after twenty miles, she knew she’d gotten away. **** 63

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After an hour of searching along the trail Rose had used when she’d fled into the woods after the rogue attacked her, Knox still hadn’t found her ring. She had been so upset over losing it, and he was sure he’d be able to find it. In fact, he knew he could find it, which made him wonder if maybe it hadn’t been lost during the actual attack. The logical thing would have been to search under the bed and dresser and around the bedroom first, but her tears had rattled him. He hoped it was there because he didn’t want to tell her he’d failed in getting it back for her. He decided to head back to the house, not wanting to be away from Rose any longer. He’d heard a car pass in the distance a few moments ago, which was a rare but not unlikely occurrence. While it hadn’t sounded close, he still wanted to make sure all was well. His need to keep his mate safe was one he couldn’t ignore, nor one he wanted to refuse. He started back, and a feeling of unease started nagging him. As he got closer to the house, the feeling intensified, and when he saw Rose’s truck was gone, he was terrified that she had been taken from him. Suddenly, he knew why the sound of the engine he’d heard earlier had sounded vaguely familiar. He ran inside to the bedroom and was relieved to see she was still sleeping. The relief was short-lived, however, when he found not Rose under the blankets, but a pillow rearranged to make it look as if she were still there. His shirt—the one she’d worn—was draped over the pillow and told it all. She’d tried to deceive him not only with the pillow trick, but by using the shirt—the one covered in her scent—as an illusion to make him believe she was still there. She’d left him. She was smart, he’d give her that, but he was going to wring her neck when he found her. The area—northern Michigan—was known to be rampant with rogues. Didn’t she understand how much danger she was in? “Son of a bitch.” He wondered if he looked in the mirror if a big S would be scorched on his forehead for “sucker.” She’d suckered him good, and he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. She thought she’d gotten away, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve, one in particular that would lead him right to her. When he did find her— 64

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and he would—he’d lock her up if he had to, but she was going to quit taking risks with her life. He couldn’t bear it if something happened to her. Her tears, the whole sob story about the ring, everything had been fake. He thought about it for a moment. No. It hadn’t all been a lie. She’d responded to his touch. No one could fake that. Well, maybe someone, somewhere could, but not Rose and not with him. She’d responded to his kisses as well. She might not like the fact that she had responded to him, but it didn’t make it any less true. That gave him hope. Her brain may not like what was happening between them, but her body recognized the chemistry, and physical attraction was a hard thing to resist, especially one as strong as the two of them had. Then he cursed himself. He’d pushed her too hard, too fast, and she’d responded by running away. He should have taken things slower, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. She was soft, inviting, his, and he’d wanted—no, needed—to touch her. And his inability to control his hormones was what ultimately drove her away. He’d been tracking and hunting for more years than she’d been alive, and he was positive that if she’d been hunting him for over a month, she had a place somewhere within a couple hundred miles at the most. And the next time she fell asleep, she’d tell him everything he needed to know, and he’d have her once again.

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Chapter Nine The long drive to the small house she was currently staying at had been tiring. Rose parked the truck under the carport in the drive, grabbed her duffel, locked the doors, and made her way to the front door. Home sweet home, well, home sweet temporary home. She hadn’t had a permanent home for over ten years, at times had longed for a place she could call her own, but there was no room for permanence or stability in her life. Nonetheless, it was good to be at her own place and away from Knox. Away from Knox—she wasn’t having any luck convincing her body that was a good thing . . . or her heart. She did a quick check of the house and made sure everything was secure before tugging off her boots and shedding her clothes. She shuffled to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot spray. As much as she wanted to linger under the soothing water, exhaustion demanded otherwise. She wrapped a towel around her and staggered to the bed, where she fell onto the soft mattress, snuggled under the covers, and was asleep almost immediately. “Rose. I missed you. You shouldn’t have left me.” A low, gravelly voice floated in the air. She opened her eyes and was startled a bit when she found Knox sitting on the side of the bed. He sat still, watching her, not making a move toward her, and after a few moments, she relaxed. He didn’t appear angry that she’d escaped him. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, the only thing he looked was relieved, well, relieved and hot as hell. “What are you doing here?” “I’m not really here. You’re dreaming.” “Oh.” She chewed at her bottom lip. “But you seem so real.” “Sometimes dreams seem that way.” He smiled at her, and her heart flip-flopped in response. She was glad she was dreaming of him. In her dreams she didn’t feel guilty for wanting to spend time with him or for wanting him to kiss her . . . and more. “Walk with me?” He held out his hand, but she hesitated.

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She’d gone to bed nude, but when she peeked under the covers, she found she was wearing a soft, pale blue nightgown. Very unlike her to wear such a feminine, silky thing, but it was a dream, after all, and she liked that she was wearing something sexier than she usually donned. When she flipped the covers back, his gaze raked her from head to toe, and she blushed furiously when his midnight eyes glowed softly. Her body heated in an instant under his scrutiny. He was the only man who’d ever had that effect on her, and the fact that he could do it without touching her was a little intimidating, and a whole lot stimulating. She finally took his hand, and he led her through the small house and out the front door. There was snow on the ground, and she was barefoot, but she wasn’t cold. And now that she looked at him closer, she grew warm everywhere. His blond hair beckoned her fingers to sift through the silky strands, and his five o’clock shadow begged to be rubbed over all the sensitive parts of her skin. His black T-shirt hugged every ripped muscle on his fine bod, and his dark jeans hung low on his lean hips, hips that she instinctively knew nestled the part of him that could give her all the pleasure she could ever need or want. He was tall, and she felt small next to him. He was the first man to ever make her feel feminine, and she liked it. She also liked that he was not unaffected by her. Every time his eyes glowed when he touched or looked at her, it was because she lit a fire in him as he did her. He’d proven on more than one occasion that he wanted her, and she’d wanted to give in to him, still wanted to. She wished to be able to touch him, kiss him, make love to him as she desired without all of the doubts that plagued her. He led her along her road and to the end of it before turning around and heading back to her house. She noticed he seemed very interested in their surroundings, and he smiled at her as if he knew something she didn’t. It was a bit unnerving, but it was a dream, after all, so what did she have to worry about? It wasn’t like he could find her or anything. When they stepped back inside, he toed the door shut and pulled her to him. He nuzzled the tender skin between her throat and shoulder, and she sighed before wrapping her arms around his neck. His tongue darted out and ran a moist trail of heat up to her jaw and around to her ear, where he nibbled at her lobe until she moaned. “You smell and taste so damn good.” He growled more than said the words.

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She welcomed his kiss and tangled her fingers in the hair at his nape, tugging him to her and straining closer for more. He broke the kiss sooner than she would have liked and stared down at her. “You taste good too, Knox.” “Why did you leave, Rose? I told you it was dangerous.” She frowned. Why was he asking her this in her dream? It didn’t feel right. Something was off. She let her hands fall to her sides and took a step back. He didn’t move, and they stood staring each other down. “I had to leave, and you know it. You kidnapped me. You had no right to make me stay with you.” His eyes glowed brighter, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not the reason you left, and you know it, so quit lying to both of us. You left because you feel something for me, and it confuses and excites the hell out of you.” “No! I-I—” “Doesn’t matter now, love.” He took a step forward that put them toe-to-toe. He swooped down and kissed her again. He wrapped one strong arm around her waist and pulled her against him until their bodies were pressed tightly together and his tongue was deep in her mouth, taking, demanding, coaxing. She melted against him and clutched at his shoulders while he plundered her mouth. She gave him everything he asked for and took the same in return. “Knox.” Her whispered plea did not go ignored. He ran his knuckles down her arm and back up before trailing down her side, over her ribs, and finally her hip. He stretched his fingers down until they met the hem of her gown and met bare skin, and she gasped in delight as his touch deliciously singed her. He stroked her thigh under the soft material and cupped her hip before sliding around to caress one globe of her ass. She’d never been happier in her life that she didn’t have on panties, and stood on tiptoes and opened her mouth wider to his kiss. He groaned, dipped his fingers lower, and slipped them between her legs from the back. She moaned when he caressed her clit, and nearly came when he flicked her gently. He growled and trailed his hand around to her mound and slid his middle finger through her wetness while his thumb put pressure on her core. She cried out, and he pushed into her. Her hips thrust up, taking him deeper.

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She broke the kiss and buried her face against his shoulder while he stroked her, his breathing nearly as ragged as her own. Within moments the pressure built to a point where she thought she would fly apart into a million pieces, and just as she was on the brink of doing just that, he removed his finger, and she cried out at the sudden emptiness she felt. He gently pushed her back until she fell onto the bed, her legs dangling to the floor. He fell to his knees and, before she could protest, spread her legs wide, insinuated his shoulders between her knees, and stroked her clit with his tongue. She bucked violently, and he reached up and anchored her to the bed by her hips. She cried out, but he held her still while he nipped, licked, and sucked at her. The pressure began building once again, and her skin burned, almost hurt from the overload of sensations rushing through her. She clutched at the sheets with her hands while he ate at her, and within moments, the pressure exploded outward, and then she shattered. Tears fell down her cheeks as she came, and came, and he continued to pleasure her relentlessly, until another orgasm ripped through her on the heels of the first. She cried out at the intensity, and his nips and licks changed to a leisurely soothing. He breathed deep, as if taking her essence into his lungs so he could carry her with him wherever he went, and kissed his way up to her mouth, where he took her lips once again. When he finally let her go, she was having trouble catching her breath, and even though she’d had two orgasms, she ached for his possession. “I’m coming for you.” He stepped back and was gone before she could blink again. She’d already come for him. Her body wept for him, and her heart pleaded for him to return, but he was gone. She’d never see him again. The only reason he’d said he was coming for her was because her mind had conjured those words up to make never seeing him again a little less painful. Her eyelids flew open, her heart pounded, she vaulted upright in the dark bedroom, and she laid her palm over her chest, hoping to calm the erratic beating. The dream of Knox had seemed so real. In fact, she swore she could taste him on her lips. She reached up and touched her mouth, then frowned. The ache between her thighs was real, and she was wet and ready for him. Damn, girl. You better get a hold of yourself. She’d let him crawl under her skin, and now it itched for his touch. How was she ever going to get him out of her thoughts, her dreams? He’d given

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her such profound pleasure—not once, but twice—and he was miles away. How was she ever going to shake the spell he’d cast over her? She put the dream out of her mind and snuggled back under the covers. She needed some sleep, and nothing was going to keep her from it, not even a sexy, midnight blue-eyed, gorgeous man—unless he made another appearance in the fantasy world created by her brain. She was sure she’d stay up all night for a repeat performance of her first dream. **** He might feel a bit guilty about tricking her if she hadn’t done the same to him. Wouldn’t she be surprised when she found out that mates could visit each other in their dreams? It had taken every ounce of willpower Knox possessed to keep from tanning her hide in that dream for running off, but he’d gotten what he’d gone after—almost everything. He growled low in his throat. His cock still throbbed and screamed at him that he was a fool for not taking her. He’d wanted to more than anything, but when he finally possessed her, he needed it to be real, in the flesh, so she’d have no excuses afterward. He wanted her to be aware on every level what was happening between them, and who was possessing her. He grazed his fingers over the erection straining against his jeans and cringed. She’d tasted like heaven, and had blossomed under his touch, burned for him, and in turn set him on fire. The craving that was rooted inside him only intensified with each passing day. The man in him was nearly as crazy with wanting his mate as the wolf. When they came together, the results would be off the charts, an eleven-magnitude earthquake. She’d wanted him just as badly in the dream, and he had no doubt she’d been more than willing to welcome him into her body. But it was because she’d thought it was only a dream. When he’d asked her to walk with him, he’d had an ulterior motive. From outside, he was able to see her street name and house address. He’d fully intended to tell her about the connection mates had during dreams, but 70

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the situation hadn’t allowed it. At this point in time, he was happy he hadn’t divulged that information, or she’d have had her guard up when he came to her. However, the thing he regretted most was not telling her about iron being a lycan’s true weakness. If he’d told her that, she’d be better able to protect herself while on her own. He’d only meant to get her location and leave in the dream, but he’d been no more able to deny the need to kiss her than the need to breathe. She’d looked so damned sexy in that blue nightie, a perfect match to the shade of her eyes. He’d wanted to rip it from her body and take her like the predator in him demanded, like the man in him craved, but he’d never betray her in such a manner, no matter how hard the urge to possess her rode him. When he made love to her—and it would be soon—he wanted her awake, aware, and willing. He wanted to brand himself on her so she’d never be able to forget who the only man was who could make her shatter into a million pieces—never be able to forget who she belonged to. Likewise, she’d finally realize that he belonged to her. He wanted to hear his name on her sweet lips as she came apart under him, as he slid deep into her welcoming heat. The predator in him desired submission, but the man relished the fact that his Rose would never play the coy mouse. She would give him all that he asked, but would demand the same in return, and he would gladly and willingly give her anything she wanted. He strode out the front door of his house with a bag containing some of his belongings slung over his shoulder. He locked up and made his way to the small garage behind the house that was barely big enough for his SUV. The four-by-four Suburban was fitted with oversize tires, winch, and spotlights. It would take an avalanche to trap him anywhere, and it would have to be a big one at that. He needed a vehicle he could count on in the brutal Michigan weather, and although the thing sucked gas like no tomorrow, it had served him well. He tossed the bag in the back, slid in behind the wheel, started the dark green monster, and let it warm up for a few minutes before starting down the drive, counting the hours until he’d see Rose again—they’d be the last he 71

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spent without her. He’d let his guard down, and she’d adequately pulled the wool over his eyes. He’d be more careful in the future and make sure not to repeat that mistake. Yeah, but what if she decides she doesn’t want you, you smug son of a bitch? He couldn’t bear that thought. He’d make her see that they belonged together, that their souls were two halves of a whole. And if worse came to worst, and she still refused to be with him, he’d let her go—to some extent. If she did choose to live without him, he’d respect her wishes no matter how much it killed him to do so, but he’d remain in the background, watching, guarding, never letting any harm come to her, and God help any poor sap who thought to touch her. He might be able to suffer living without her, but he’d never be able to stand idly by and allow her to be with another. Neither the man nor the wolf would share his mate. He took a deep breath and let out a long, slow sigh. He was getting worked up over things that might never happen. He had faith that fate wouldn’t pair him with someone who could not abide him. If he had to, he’d spend the rest of his days convincing Rose that they belonged together. He turned the radio on, hit the button to switch it to CD, and cranked up “Back in Black” by AC/DC. He smiled and stepped on the gas. He was going to get his Rose back, thorns and all.

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Chapter Ten Rose sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and pushed the eggs around on the paper plate. She hadn’t eaten off of real plates at her own place for years, not wanting any needless possessions to pack up or get rid of when she moved from one house to another. Lately, she’d grown weary of the way she was living, yearned for some permanence. Was it too much to ask to have real dishes and silverware? The strong black coffee was doing little to wake her up this morning after a restless night, and her mood wasn’t helped by the “poor, poor pitiful me” routine. She sighed and thought about the dreams she’d had last night of Knox— all with the same outcome, both of them sweaty and naked. She had to get him out of her mind somehow. He’s gone, Rose. Get a hold of yourself. But she didn’t want to get a hold of herself. She found, odd as it was, she missed him. She wished she’d given in to the urge to make love to him before she’d left. He would have been amazing to have sex with, and her body still ached for him. No. She had done the right thing. If she had slept with him, she wouldn’t have been able to walk away from him so easily—or maybe not at all. From now on she’d never see another romantic movie or read another romance book that didn’t make her imagine he and she in place of the main characters. Why couldn’t they just be two normal people who’d randomly met? Why did he have to be a lycan? Everything revolved around that one thing—him being a lycan. Why couldn’t she get past that? Hadn’t he proven to her that not all lycans were the horrible monsters she’d thought them to be? He protected her, had been gentle with her even when she hadn’t deserved it—like after she’d shot him—and his kisses and touch made her burn. Each time he’d set those smoldering pools of glowing midnight blue upon her, she’d melt a little. She’d never met a man who could say so much with his eyes. When he watched her, he never bothered to hide the desire that sizzled in his gaze. His eyes said, I want to possess you. I want to eat you up and make you scream in ecstasy, as clearly as his lips ever could. And his body. Oh, she’d never 73

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seen a body as delectable as his. She would like nothing better than to use him as her own personal lollipop. She groaned, got up, and took her plate to the trash, where she dumped it and the remaining contents. She was fighting a losing battle. She’d allowed him to infect her with his eyes, magical touch, delectable lips, and dominant nature. There was no vaccination, no cure for Knox Slade, and she couldn’t deny any longer that she wanted him, that she’d probably always want him. She sighed, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain aside. If she hadn’t looked at the clock moments before, she’d swear the darkening sky was welcoming evening instead of noon. There was a storm coming in, and the thick gray clouds made the day dreary, gloomy, and dark. It reflected perfectly how she felt— heavy, dismal, and volatile. She let the curtain fall back into place and went to her room to get dressed. She let her robe fall to the floor and put on a pair of black leather pants, black T-shirt, and black leather vest. She then put on heavy socks and black boots and headed for the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and pulled her hair back, twisted it, and secured it on top of her head with a clip. She needed to find out more about the place Knox called Sanctuary. She wanted to believe a place like that really existed, but needed to see it for herself. And if it was real, she wanted to be a part of it. It would be a way that she could continue to help with the lycan problem, but also a way that she could stop getting her hands bloody. She needed a change, and as loath as she was to admit it, she needed to be around other people, other people who knew what she knew. She’d been alone for a long time, and she didn’t want to be so anymore. But what if the place does exist, and they don’t want you around? She ignored the question her mind whispered. She still had her parents, but they traveled abroad most of the time, and after Tammy’s murder, her withdrawal had put quite a strain on their relationship. They’d always love her, as she would them, but they didn’t understand her, nor could they ever really. She’d never tell them about lycans. She couldn’t willingly subject anyone she loved to that knowledge. She stayed in touch with them via phone. It was better to remain distant 74

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from them, especially since she carried the scent. She didn’t want to risk putting them in danger. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to them because of her. She repacked her duffel bag and got more weapons from her stash in the closet, although now that Knox had told her that silver had no affect on lycans, she wasn’t sure she should even bother. But ineffective weapons were better than no weapons at all. She was in constant danger, and she had to have the means to protect herself somehow, even if that protection would only slow the enemy down. A half hour later, she was ready to go, but decided to wait and see how bad the snowstorm got before trudging out in it. She set the duffel bag by the front door, plopped on the couch, and flipped on the television. After a few minutes of surfing through the local news and adjusting the rabbit ears to get a somewhat viewable channel—she didn’t watch television enough to bother with satellite or cable—it was evident that she wouldn’t be heading out until tomorrow morning. The storm wasn’t going to be as bad as many she’d seen, but she wasn’t fool enough to risk being stranded in it either. She stretched out on the old blue sofa that had seen better days, and closed her eyes. She’d relax for a bit and then figure out what she’d cook for dinner. **** Rose slowly opened her eyes to a dark room lit by the low glow of the television. Her restless night had apparently taken a toll, and her short nap turned into a few hours of much needed sleep. She sat up and arched her back in a catlike fashion, smiling when it popped in just the right place. She rubbed her eyes and wondered if she should even bother with dinner, but just as she was about to get up and go to the kitchen, all of the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood straight up. She stilled and cocked her head to the side. Her inner warning bells were clanging away as they had at Knox’s when the rogue attacked her. She scanned the room, but couldn’t find anything alarming. 75

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Even though she couldn’t detect any immediate danger, it was there nonetheless. She dropped slowly to the floor and inched her way toward the duffel bag by the front door. It seemed to take forever to inch across a few feet of space, but she wanted to make as little movement as possible. She dug around in the bag and pulled out a gun and dagger, a weapon for each palm. She scooted to the wall and had just pressed her back against it when a thud sounded on the front door, which was right beside her. Her heart hammered in her chest, and if she was right about what was outside her door, it could probably hear each frantic thump. She swallowed hard and started belly crawling toward the bedroom, but before she got halfway there, the front door splintered, and wood sprayed across the room. She rolled onto her back just as a giant red wolf landed at her feet. She cried out in surprise, aimed, and shot the lycan. Its yelp told her she’d hit her target, but she knew her advantage would be a short one before it recovered. She got up and ran for the bedroom, praying that she’d wounded the wolf bad enough for it to decide she wasn’t worth the bother. Just as she made it to her room, the window shattered, and another wolf jumped through. This one was bigger and black, with glowing eyes, and fangs dripping saliva. She figured his back would come almost to her waist. She pointed the gun and fired a shot as the wolf leaped and sailed through the air. Her last thought as the wolf hit her hard, driving her to the ground with its weight, was that she was about to die. As her head smacked the wood floor hard, blackness swam before her eyes, then engulfed her, dragging her down into oblivion. Thank God she wouldn’t be awake for whatever was about to happen to her. **** When Knox arrived at Rose’s house and saw the shattered front door, murderous rage hit him hard, blurring his vision with a red haze. The smell of the lycans was pungent, and he leaped from the truck after he’d slammed it into park. Curved claws shot through his fingertips, fangs erupted from his 76

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gums, and the familiar heat of his inner wolf coming to life seared the blood in his veins. He let out a howl that nearly shook the house as he ran inside. There was blood on the living room floor, and near-crippling pain tore through his chest at the thought of Rose being hurt. When he got to the bedroom door, the rage inside him boiled to a level he’d never felt in his life. There were three of them. One red wolf who appeared to have been shot—dumbass hadn’t even shifted to human and back again to heal the wound—a gray wolf, and a black. The black bastard stood over Rose’s unconscious body sprawled on the floor. There was about to be three dead wolves, and he wasn’t inclined to show them one ounce of mercy. “Hey assholes.” All three wolves turned their heads toward him. He wondered at their level of stupidity, as they hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge his warning howl or his presence until he’d said something. Immediately, the gray and red wolves shifted to their human forms. They looked like damned kids barely in their twenties, and while he felt sorry that he was now going to have to kill three of his kind, he understood that it was something that couldn’t be helped. None of them held the despair in their eyes that the lycan from the other night had—the one he had hope for. No. These were too far gone for reformation, and it was his duty to do what was necessary. He hated killing, but the thought of these punks getting their hands on other potential mates made him sick. If he hadn’t found Rose now, they would have either killed her or taken her, and he most likely would have never seen her again. How many other lycans had been deprived of their mates because of the actions of these rogues? Crippling despair tore through him. “Who the fuck are you?” The red wolf, who was now a red-haired punk, snarled at Knox. “I’m your worst enemy, boy, and that there is my mate.” “She’s got the scent. That makes her fair game to all of us. If you want to join in on the fun, you’re more than welcome. Otherwise, I’d get out of here 77

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before you get hurt.” Red Hair spoke again while the man with silvery hair, who had shifted from the gray wolf, inched toward him. Knox growled and took a menacing step toward them while keeping an eye on the black wolf still too close to Rose for his comfort. He wanted to rip them to shreds—would rip them apart—but he had to be careful for Rose’s sake. “You obviously have no idea who you’re talking to. Either that or you have to be the dumbest motherfuckers I’ve ever met.” Knox noticed the men’s eyes widen when the idiots finally realized he was partially changed, and now understood what exactly they were up against. “Yeah. I’m an ancient, and I’m going to tear your balls off and make you eat them for touching my mate.” “Ancient or not, there’s three of us,” Silver Hair taunted, but now the cocky confidence the pup had exuded only seconds before was laced with fear. “You really are dumb motherfuckers, aren’t you?” Knox snorted. “It wouldn’t matter if there were ten of you. You young pups don’t stand a chance against me. So let’s get this party started, shall we?” The words had barely left Knox’s mouth when the black wolf jumped at him, jaws snapping, going for his neck. At the very last second, Knox twisted and brought his claws up in one smooth motion, ripping the wolf’s stomach open from throat to ass. Blood and guts spilled on the floor, and he knew the black wolf would not recover. He turned to the two men still standing where they’d been before their friend attacked him. “Two to one now, boys. Who’s next?” He raised a brow and smirked, mocking their stupidity outright. A soft murmur distracted Knox, and he turned to find Rose awake and propped up on her elbows, blue eyes wide and mouth slightly open, probably in shock. His heart thudded in relief at knowing she was okay, but suddenly Red Hair—catching Knox off guard—clocked him one in the face that sent him careening backward, and Rose cried out. “No!” She tried to crawl toward him, but the silver-haired punk grabbed her. 78

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Knox quickly recovered and blocked the next blow from Red Hair. He drove his palm into the man’s nose, satisfied by the resounding crunch and blood spray. The rogue yelped in pain, but recovered quickly and came at Knox once again. Knox dodged the charging pup, grabbed him by the head as he sailed past him, and twisted. The popping bones and instant slump of the rogue’s body were testament that the pup’s neck had been broken. He let the dead wolf’s limp body fall to the floor. Knox slowly turned to see Silver Hair still had Rose, but now he had her back pulled up against his chest and held her in a choke hold. Knox clenched and unclenched his fists, claws digging into his skin of his palms with each flex. The need to get to her, to protect her at any cost was so overpowering he almost fell to his knees. “Look.” He spread his arms wide. “Take me, but don’t hurt her.” “You think I’m that big of an idiot?” Silver Hair practically screamed. “I let her go, and you kill me. I don’t let her go, and you’ll kill me anyway, so I might as well cause you some suffering before I die.” He tightened his arm around Rose’s throat, and her face turned red as she struggled for her next breath. “You’re right. I’ll kill you either way, but if you let her go, I promise to make it fast. If you hurt her, I’ll make you pay slowly and painfully.” The rogue’s eyes flared with fear, and his arm relaxed a fraction. Rose’s hand inched up to her waist, and Knox’s heart nearly stalled in his chest when he realized what she was about to do. He had no way to stop her as she slid the dagger from its hiding place under her shirt. With one enviable, quick-as-lightning motion, she flung her hand backward, and the dagger embedded in the lycan’s chest to the hilt. Silver Hair screamed in fury and punched Rose in the face. Knox watched in horror as she flew backward and hit the wall hard with a thump before crumpling in a heap on the floor. He jumped on the rogue and broke his neck as he had Red Hair’s, then turned and ran to Rose. His claws retracted, along with his fangs, as he bent and trailed his hands along her legs and arms, checking for broken bones. He tilted her head back and

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sucked in an angry breath when he saw the deep purple bruise already marring her cheek. He’d failed her. He’d let his guard down, allowed her to escape, and had arrived too late to adequately protect her. It was his fault she had gotten hurt. **** Rose started to regain consciousness and cringed when the throbbing in her cheek, jaw, and head made her wonder if she’d been hit by a freight train. When she could finally open her eyelids, she thought she might be hallucinating, as Knox was kneeling in front of her. “Knox?” “Yeah, baby, it’s me.” He stroked his long fingers over her aching face. Somehow, his touch soothed the battered skin instead of bringing her more pain. She’d never thought she’d see him again, and her heart fluttered with joy. Not only because she’d be dead if he hadn’t come, but because she’d . . . missed him. She flexed her jaw and moved her limbs one by one. Thankfully, nothing felt broken, but she hurt like hell. When she’d seen Knox partially changed, he’d been a terrifying but wondrous spectacle to behold. Had his anger been directed at her instead of the other lycans, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to keep her composure about her. She’d been awed that the rogues hadn’t immediately realized the danger they faced. She’d never seen a lycan partially change, hadn’t known it was possible. Still, instinctively she’d known that the others didn’t stand a chance against him and wondered why they hadn’t figured that out sooner themselves. His long claws, fangs, and glowing eyes had been both awing and terrifying. She wished that they had been alone so she could have examined him closer, and found it comforting, if not a little unsettling, that she hadn’t felt any fear—not from Knox anyway. The other lycans she’d been terrified of, but she’d been one hundred percent positive that Knox wouldn’t hurt

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her. The fury she’d seen burning in his eyes had been the result of her being in danger. He had killed for her without a second thought. He’d put his life in danger for her. Oh my God. It finally dawned on her that she’d fallen in love with him. Somehow, no matter how hard she’d fought the attraction she had for him, no matter how hard she’d resisted seeing him as a man instead of a monster, she’d fallen for him. Deep down she knew she’d probably loved him from the moment he’d tackled her in the woods, but she’d refused to listen to her heart. She hadn’t wanted to like, let alone love, the thing that she’d hated all of her life. But that wasn’t true, was it? She had never hated Knox, never really hated lycans, if she was being perfectly honest with herself. She’d hated the destruction and the pain they’d caused just as she hated when her own fellow man caused such chaos in the world, and she’d never hated all humans because some of them were cold and heartless, had she? Knox was the best man she’d ever met, aside from her father. He’d shown compassion where she might have none. He’d shown loyalty to what he believed in, and he’d kept his word to her when he said he’d never hurt her and would protect her. And now, even though killing the rogues had been necessary, his eyes held a hint of pain for what he’d had no choice but to do. He was a man of great strength both mentally and physically, and she respected and admired him. Knox held his hand out, but when she went to take it, a flurry of motion stopped her. She saw him tense, and he spun around at the same time another wolf jumped through the window. The giant lycan’s claws caught Knox across the neck and ripped his flesh. Blood sprayed over her face, and terror and anger tore through her in a maelstrom of waves. Knox’s claws sprang from his fingers, and he swiped at the wolf when it came for him again. There was so much blood, and she was worried Knox had received a fatal injury. He needed to fully change to heal. He slashed at the side of the wolf and ripped through fur, skin, and muscle. The lycan yelped, fell to the 81

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floor, and blood spilled from the gaping wound on the body. The lycan’s sides heaved, and Knox staggered before the wolf leaped again. This time, Knox caught the wolf around the neck and sank his fangs through the top of its skull, crushing it with a loud crunch. The wolf fell to the floor, dead, and Knox turned back to Rose. He reached up to the wound at his throat and clamped his hand over the injury, but blood leaked through the spaces between his fingers. Rose ran to him. “No! Change. Change now so you can heal.” “Can’t. Don’t want you to hate me.” His whispered words slid over her skin like a longing caress. “I won’t hate you! I swear. Please, Knox!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Rose.” He spoke so quietly she could barely hear him, and put her ear close to his mouth. “It’s iron. Our weakness is iron, not silver. If more come, use the iron. SSorry, baby.” “Pleassse, change!” “Too weak.” “No! Do it. I don’t want to lose you.” But it was too late. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he sank to the floor at her feet.

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Chapter Eleven She had to act fast, or he’d die. Taking him to the hospital was out of the question. For one, she didn’t think he’d make it to the hospital, and secondly, if he did and they got a sample of his blood, all hell would break loose. Besides, he’d never want her to risk taking him to the hospital even if she thought they could save him. As hard as he’d fought to help the survival of his race, letting his blood fall into the wrong hands would put all the lycans in jeopardy. He’d never forgive her if she allowed such a thing to happen. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed as many towels as she could, went back to Knox, knelt by him, and pushed one hard against his neck. His skin was pale with a tinge of gray to it, no hint of its usual golden hue evident. Lycans healed fast, but he was in danger of bleeding out if he didn’t change. She had to staunch the blood flow until he regained consciousness and could shift. She sat on the floor, rested her back against the end of the bed, and struggled to pull his head onto her lap. He was a big man, and his dead weight was hard to maneuver. She held the towel tightly to his neck and brushed her fingers through his hair. She had a medical aid box in her truck with a suture kit in it, but she didn’t dare leave him quite yet to get it. She had to get the flow of blood slowed before leaving him for any amount of time. Once she thought it was somewhat under control, she’d get the kit, stitch him up, and hope her efforts weren’t too little too late. She bent and kissed him on the forehead and whispered, “Please, Knox. Don’t go. I need you.” She traced her fingers over the scars on his face. He was strong. He’d make it. But an hour later, when he was still lying unconscious across her lap, and his breaths were shallow, with too much time in between each one, she was afraid he was dying. Tears stung her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. There had to be a way to save him. If she could make him hear her somehow, she was sure she could hold him to her until he awoke. If she could get through to him somehow, convince him to fight and stay with her, she’d grab on to him and refuse to let him die. She sobbed as she 83

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changed the towel out for a fresh one. The bleeding had nearly stopped, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or if it meant he didn’t have enough blood left to bleed. It was the first time the blood hadn’t started flowing the minute she’d stopped the pressure, and she knew now would be the best time to get the sutures from the truck. She didn’t want to leave him, not even for a second, but she had to get his wound closed up to keep the bleeding from starting again. She eased his head down to the floor, got up, and sprinted to the truck. She nearly tripped several times, as her legs had fallen asleep from sitting for so long, but she’d gotten the kit and was back with Knox in no time, his head propped across her lap once again. She had never stitched a wound, but she was decent at sewing and hoped that skill would help her with this matter. She ripped the sterile plastic apart and threaded the black suture line through the needle. After removing the towel from Knox’s throat, she heaved a sigh when she saw the wound was starting to crust over as if it was trying to heal. She opened some sterile wipes from their sealed packages and cleaned the injury. It was deep, and she gasped as the seriousness of the wound was exposed. Her stomach churned, but she fought down the sick feeling, placed the needle against his neck, and took a deep breath. You can do this. You have to do this if you want to save him. She pierced the skin and put all thoughts from her mind except the task at hand. Ten minutes later, she had the wound sutured and was happy with her work. The stitches were neat and even, and she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. After getting rid of the needle, she placed a thick bandage over her handiwork and secured it with some tape. She wiped her hands with a wipe and brushed the hair from Knox’s forehead. “You’re all patched up now. You won’t lose any more blood. Heal and come back to me.” “Isn’t that touching?” The voice that came from the doorway immediately sent a sliver of dread down her spine. When she looked up, she was shocked and felt the world careen and tilt under her. Russell. He was alive. But how had he survived? This couldn’t be real. She had to be imagining things. 84

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“I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, babe.” Fear clawed at her, but was quickly replaced by anger. “Get away from me, you bastard. You’re supposed to be dead.” “Tsk, tsk. Yes, you almost did me in, but as you can see, I survived.” He opened his arms wide and slowly spun as if to show her that he was perfectly healthy. She looked around the room and saw her salvation only a foot from her. But could she get to it before Russell got to her? “Got a new boyfriend, do you? Seems like a weakling to me. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of him for you. Then, I’ll take care of you. We’ve got some business to settle—you and I—and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.” Russell leaped at her, and she dove for the arrow lying to her right. But just as her fingers closed around it, she was slammed to the ground face-first and pinned to the floor by his big body, unable to move. She was going to die. She could almost come to terms with that, but for one thing. Knox would die too, and she couldn’t allow that to happen because of her. **** His neck hurt, and his throat was so raw he could barely swallow, but Rose was in danger, and Knox had to save her. He fought his way to consciousness to find his mate pinned to the ground by another rogue. He thought all of them had been taken care of, but there had obviously been a stray who had lagged behind. His body felt like lead as he tried to push himself from the floor, but fear and anger gave him the strength to stumble to his feet. Thankfully, the rogue was too preoccupied with Rose to notice his approach—he’d never understand how rogues survived at all with their careless disregard for their surroundings—but Rose’s eyes locked with his a split second before he reached for the lycan. He yanked the man back by his hair, and Rose flipped

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over as quick as lightning and stabbed one of her arrows, iron-end first, through the bastard’s chest. The rogue gasped, and Knox fell weakly to the floor. He’d lost too much blood, and he’d just used up the last reserves of his strength to help her. As he slipped once again into unconsciousness, he hoped Rose would find happiness in her life. **** “This time, you die for good, you bastard.” Rose stared in horror as Knox slid to the floor once again before looking back at Russell. He reached toward her, but she twisted the iron shaft and pushed it further into his heart. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she had last time she thought she’d killed him. This time, she’d be one hundred percent positive Russell was dead. She gave the shaft one last push, and blood began pooling underneath his body. Within moments, he gasped for air, then stopped breathing altogether. She checked his pulse—none. And his skin was turning a sickly gray. Russell would stay dead this time. She scooted over to Knox, pulled his head onto her lap once again, and sagged against the bed, where she wept until exhaustion overtook her. **** “Knox?” The soft voice floated through the air, barely penetrating the fog enshrouding his brain. The effort it took to lift his heavy eyelids was too much, but he had no choice other than to answer the call of his mate. Everything inside him strained toward her, every cell, every fiber that made him who he was, even as his body fought the movement. A piece of him wanted to stay in the blissful, peaceful limbo he’d been lingering in. No fighting, no rogues to deal with, no pain, no . . . Rose. Rose! His Rose. But she wasn’t his, was she? He loved her, needed her. She was his mate, the other half of his soul, but she would never accept him for who he was, and could he bear it if she walked away from him? Could he let her walk away from him? 86

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No. And for that, she would hate him more. Maybe it was best to stay in limbo, sweet oblivion, where he was numb and pain no longer touched him. “Knox! Answer me, please. I need you.” His heart thumped hard in response to her distressed pleas. Was she in danger? Even limbo couldn’t keep his wolf from the innate need to protect his mate. He sat up and blinked his eyes several times, trying to get rid of the gritty feel. “Knoxxxx?” The vibrations of anguish in her voice cut through him like a knife, tearing at his heart, eating away at his soul. He had to go to her, had to answer her, had to protect her. He sat up and winced. Why was he so lethargic? Why did every movement he make take more effort than he felt he could give? “Rose? Where are you?” His throat was dry and hurt. Each word scratched like sandpaper. “Knox? Talk to me so I can find you.” “I’m over here, baby.” He tried to stand, but his legs were like jelly, and he plopped hard back on his ass. “Oh my God! It is you!” When she came through the fog, her aura was like a bright ray of sunshine breaking the haze and scorching it with beautiful light until it dissipated into smaller and smaller tendrils and vanished altogether. If this was the light people saw at the end of the tunnel, he’d gladly walk into it without a second thought. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he was positive that no matter how long he lived, he’d never see a more glorious sight than she. She made his heart beat, not in a mechanical rhythm necessary for life, but in happy thumps that yearned for every next beat made within her presence. He didn’t just exist around her. He thrived. She kneeled next to him, and he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Her warm body cuddled against him, and her natural scent—tinged with lilac and honeysuckle—tickled his nose. She leaned back and framed his face with her hands, and not even her tears could squash the delight he felt from holding her. “What’s wrong, Rose?” “I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone forever.” She buried her face against his chest and sobbed. 87

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He rubbed what he hoped was soothing circles on her back and wondered why she was so distraught. Why had she thought she’d lost him? But it didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was upset because she thought she’d lost him, which meant . . . she cared for him. His chest swelled, and he wanted to shout out in joy as he rocked her gently and kissed the top of her head. Her silky onyx locks tickled his nose, and he sat back and tipped her chin up with his fingers until her pale blue eyes, glossy and swollen with tears, stared straight into his soul. “You were upset because you thought you’d lost me?” “Of course I was.” “Is it not too much to hope for that you care for me just a little, even though I’m a lycan?” He framed her face and fanned his fingers over her soft skin. She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned into his touch before answering. “I’m sorry for generalizing you. You’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful, caring man, and I’ve fallen in love with you.” “I never thought I’d hear you say those words to me, Rose. They are words that will hold the most meaning to me for all time. You must know I love you.” She nodded. “It took me a while to figure it out, or believe it, but I do know.” He kissed her. When she instantly parted her lips for him, he groaned, slanted his mouth over hers, and deepened the kiss. She tasted of everything wonderful that had been forbidden to him. Now that he’d tasted submission, surrender, desire . . . love for him on her lips, he’d never want for another thing in life. That wasn’t entirely true. He’d wish for a million more kisses from her. Her delicate tongue tangled with his and stroked along the seam of his lips. He needed to claim her, wanted to imprint himself on her so she’d never forget she belonged to him. But something was wrong. He broke the kiss, nearly forgetting his thoughts when she cried out in protest, but he needed to know what had made her so upset. “Why did you think you’d lost me?” “I was attacked at my house, and you saved me, but not before you were injured. You bled out fast and went unconscious. I didn’t think you’d make it.” She cupped his jaw in her hand, and he rubbed against her. Everything came rushing back at that moment. This was a dream. He’d been injured, possibly fatally. Rage tore through him when he remembered how the rogues had handled Rose. They’d hurt her, and he’d killed them for it, but not before the last one had gotten in 88

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a lucky swipe at him. And then another one had come, and he’d barely been able to help her. He reached up to his neck, but it was fine. Of course it would be since his throat was only wounded in the conscious world. “I couldn’t wake you up. No matter what I did, you wouldn’t open your eyes until Russell came. But you passed out again after yanking him off me. I killed him this time— for real.” “Russell? The same Russell who killed your friend?” Anger coursed through him. She nodded. “I thought you already killed him?” “I thought I did too, but apparently the misconceptions I had about how to kill lycans allowed him to survive what I thought was sure death. All this time, I thought he was gone, all this time—” “Shh. It will be okay. I promise.” He stood and pulled her up with him. Now that he knew his real wounds had been dictating his body in the dream world, he could shake off the feeling of lethargy. He would go back to reality. He would go back for her, Rose, his mate, and he would live for her. A squeak of surprise escaped her plump lips, as if she’d only just realized he didn’t have a scratch on him. She reached up and traced his neck, no doubt where the hideous wound had marred his skin. Her brows furrowed. “How is this possible?” “This is another one of those things that you didn’t know about even through all of your research on lycans. Mates have a mental connection that is strong enough to follow them into their dreams.” “We’re dreaming.” She spun around. “None of this is real?” “It’s real . . . but not.” He grinned when she scowled at him. “We make up our own fantasies here. We feel everything that takes place. We can control what happens, but of course, it only happens here. While we remember it all upon awaking, it cannot breach the real world. If you get pissed at me and shoot me with an arrow again, I won’t be injured when I awake. What happens in our dreams, stays in our dreams. The same is true for reality.” She frowned. “What’s wrong?” “So you are still injured in reality?” 89

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**** Rose sat up with a start. She’d fallen asleep. Knox was still lying across her lap, and she was still sitting on the hard floor, leaning against the bed. He’d been in her dreams? No. It’s not possible. But yet she knew it was. That’s how he found me. While she’d been casually showing him around her neighborhood in the dream the night before, he’d been honing in on her location. When he woke up, she was going to throttle him for not telling her about this dream stuff sooner. “Knox.” She brushed his blond hair back from his face, and his lashes fluttered. He sucked in a great gulp of air as his eyes opened. She wanted to cry in relief, but she cradled him to her instead. “Rose?” His voice sounded gravelly and strained. “Don’t talk, Knox. Can you shift? You have to so you can heal.” If he didn’t, he’d die. He’d lost too much blood, and the damage was too great. She didn’t know how he’d held on this long. “I don’t know.” “Please do it for me.” She bent and kissed him gently on the lips. “Don’t leave me.” She gasped when golden hairs poked through every inch of his exposed skin. Fangs shot down over his bottom lip, and his muscles began to contort. Within a split second, a wolf stood staring at her. Not a wolf, Knox. His midnight blue eyes were the same and watched her intently, as if he thought she might run away screaming at any moment. Happiness shot through her because she knew he’d be okay now. She’d found him in their dreams, and he’d come back for her. “You can touch me if you’d like.” She jumped. “Knox?” “Yes. It’s me. You didn’t expect me to be able to talk, did you?”

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“Oh, I don’t know, couldn’t be any weirder than changing into a wolf.” She frowned and then laughed when she thought about how funny it would be if he spoke to her as a wolf. His low chuckle floated through her brain. “We have to have some way to communicate in wolf form.” “I guess. I’m just awed at all of the things I never knew about lycans. I’ve done so much research, but it seems I really don’t know as much as I thought I did. I got so much wrong.” “We guard our secrets well. Our survival depends on it.” She sucked in a breath when he walked to her and nudged at her hand with his nose. He was amazing. He was beautiful. She’d never seen a golden wolf before, and the contrast the color lent to his eyes was breathtaking. She hesitantly sifted her fingers through his fur. It was soft and thick, and she had a strange urge to bury her face in it. “You’re gorgeous.” “Nowhere close to as gorgeous as you are.”

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Chapter Twelve Rose’s cheeks burned when Knox changed back, as he now stood before her naked. The stitches had come out of his neck when he’d shifted, and the injury was nothing more than a passing memory. Not one extra ounce of fat resided on his muscular frame, and she saw that he was big . . . everywhere. She licked her lips as he looked around at the bloody towels and bodies. “I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up.” “What are we supposed to do with the bodies?” He bent down and retrieved his jeans from the floor, stepped into them, and pulled them up over his lean hips. She wanted to touch him, but now was not the time. How could the need to run her fingers over his skin so effectively block out the carnage in her bedroom? “They have to be burned and the remains buried so no one will find them.” “I’ll clean up the towels and blood.” He went to her, pulled her into his arms, and rested his chin on top of her head. She laid her ear against his bare chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. “I’m sorry I let you down with Russell.” She pulled back, looked up at him, and felt sad when she saw the shadow of guilt in his eyes. She laid her palm against his cheek. “You didn’t let me down. If you hadn’t pulled him off me—and I don’t know how you managed to do so in your condition—he would have killed me. And if you hadn’t told me about the iron, no telling what would have happened. You saved me, Knox.” When he started to protest, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. He groaned and dipped his tongue between her lips to taste her. After a few moments, she reluctantly pulled away. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.” “Yes, let’s do because we need to talk.” He put the rest of his clothes on before getting to work.

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**** Three hours later, the snowstorm continued to rage outside. Knox had managed to dispose of all of the bodies, and she had bagged up the bloody towels and thrown them out before scrubbing the floor in the bedroom. It was late, and she was tired, but her body wanted something other than sleep. It ached for Knox. He now sat across from her at the kitchen table eating the hamburgers she’d made him. When he was finished, she threw the paper plate away and sat back down. “So we can, um, communicate in our dreams, huh?” “Yes, we can. But I don’t think that’s really what you want to ask me, is it?” His gaze penetrated her, making her want to squirm in her chair. “You said it was a thing mates could do.” “Yes.” “Damn it. You know what I’m asking.” She fidgeted with a piece of her hair. “Then ask.” “Are we . . . are we—what I mean is . . .” She growled in frustration. He reached over, took her hands in his, and scooted close until her legs were trapped between his thighs and their faces were only inches apart. “Yes. We are mates. You are my mate, and while I’m sorry that that may be distressing news to you, I’ll never regret that it is so. I love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, even after you tried to kill me.” “I know.” He raised a brow. “You know?” She nodded. “Yes. When you trusted me enough to tell me about iron, I had a hunch, but when you refused to change because you thought I would hate you for it, I was certain. And by the way, don’t you ever do anything— or not do something—that might endanger your life to save my feelings again. I would never want you to die because of me.” He cupped her cheek in his palm, and she leaned against him, soaking up the warmth of his touch. 93

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“I would do anything to keep from hurting you.” “I know. But you dying would be the thing that would hurt me most. I love you too.” He sucked in a sharp breath before a grin broke over his full lips. “Say it again.” She giggled. “I love you.” “Again.” He kissed her eyelids. “You heard me, man. I love you. Now, if you don’t mind, I need a shower.” He kissed her, and her blood heated as he tasted her thoroughly, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he broke the kiss, her stomach clenched when she witnessed the searing desire that burned in his glowing eyes. The searing desire she stirred within him. “I need a shower too.” He picked her up, carried her to the bathroom, set her down, and started the shower. After he pulled off his shirt, he reached for her, and tugged her against his chest so he could nuzzle her ear. When she shivered, he growled and blew on the lobe before licking, then sucking on it. “I want you so much. You can’t imagine how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off you,” he whispered. She lightly ran her fingers over the bulge in his jeans. “I think I have an idea how hard it’s been.” He grunted, and pushed his hips against her. “I’m having a very difficult time taking this slow.” She gave him a gentle squeeze, and a tiny sliver of apprehension ran through her when she remembered how big he was. She was burning up for him, but his size was intimidating. “I want you too, Knox.” “Have you ever been with a man?” She shook her head, and he smiled. “I can’t tell you how much that pleases me. I promise I’ll be as careful as I can with you the first time, no matter how much it kills me.” 94

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“I’ll be okay. I think you are aware by now that I’m no delicate flower.” He took her chin between his fingers. “Hey, look at me. I don’t want you to be ‘okay.’ I want you to be delirious. I want to make you feel so damn good you’ll scream out my name as you come apart in my arms with me buried deep inside you.” “I want to be with you. You’re just a tad intimidating.” She bit her bottom lip as she glanced down at the bulge in his jeans. “We’ll be great together.” “I know. I’ve just got a case of the jitters.” “Let’s see if we can do something about that.” And he proceeded to do something about it, because after his mouth came down on hers, all hesitation fled, and the only thing she wanted was to touch him, taste him, love him. She was glad she’d never been with another man, as she had no doubt all of them would have paled in comparison to Knox. When his tongue dipped inside her mouth, she moaned in pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck to anchor him to her. She went up in flames under his touch and barely noticed when he stripped her clothes from her, until his hand cupped her bare breast. She gasped as his fingers flicked her nipple and played with the stiff peaks, each tug pulling on invisible strings of pleasure that were connected to her core. Tension built inside her, and when he bent and covered her with his mouth, her knees buckled. He held her up effortlessly while he sucked her breast deep before letting it pop out of his mouth, and tongued her nipple before gently rubbing his stubbled jaw over her, then sucking her back into his mouth. She cried out, and he trailed his hand down her back, over her ass and hip, and around to her mound. He stroked her slick folds while he continued to lick and nip her nipples. She arched into him, and he slid one finger inside. Her muscles clenched around him as he moved deeper, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him against her. “You are so hot, so wet, so tight just for me. I’m aching to be inside you.” He dipped his finger deeper and pulled it almost out before thrusting

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back in, mimicking what he would soon do with his body, mimicking what she craved him to do with his body. “Mmmm.” He bent down and licked a trail to her stomach, down to her thigh, then to her calf, where he proceeded to kiss every scar she had. Each stroke of his tongue was in perfect sync with each thrust of his finger. He’d lit a stick of dynamite inside her, and she was about to explode. He kissed his way back up to her breasts, and she cried out as she teetered on the edge of release. She rocked against him, and when his thumb circled her clit again, the building tension spiraled inside her and burst into a million pieces. Her climax hit her hard, and he coaxed wave after wave from her with his fingers and mouth. After the last tremor of her orgasm shivered through her, he stood and pulled his jeans off. She had no time for apprehension over his size as he picked her up and stepped into the shower. He turned her to face the wall and lathered a loofah up with soap. He stretched her arms above her and placed her palms on either side of her head. “Stay still for me.” He began washing her shoulders in slow circles before journeying down her back. When he reached her ass, she closed her eyes and moaned, pushing back at him as he soaped her. He growled, and the loofah hit the floor as he stepped closer and his lips trailed along her neck, heating her skin everywhere they touched. He urged her hips back until her cheeks cradled his hard cock. He rocked against her, and she pushed at him, brazenly begging for more. When she reached back to touch him, he guided her palms back to the wall and held her firmly in place with his hands. “You know that if I bite you it will turn you?” She froze when his words came close to her ear. “I’m not telling you to scare you. I want you to know that I would never do it unless you agreed. I don’t want you to be afraid of me or unsure of what I may or may not do. I swear to you, it will never happen without your consent.” 96

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She believed him. He had never lied to her before, and she didn’t believe he’d do so now. He wouldn’t have bothered telling her if he’d planned to change her regardless of her feelings. He tensed behind her as if waiting for her protest, but he would not get one from her. She pushed against him again, and he groaned. “I know you would never hurt me. You’ve proved it time and again, almost at the cost of your own life, which you better never do again.” Her words had barely left when he bit down on her shoulder hard enough to hold her still, but not break the skin. She gasped when he shifted, and his cock slid between her legs and nudged at her slick, swollen folds. Apprehension at the size of him gripped her again, but was quickly forgotten when he reached down and circled her clit with his finger. She cried out as tension built in her once again, and was on the brink of another orgasm, when he slipped inside her. She froze at the foreign sensation he created. He was only partway in, but stretched her to the point of pain. Yet every tiny movement sparked nerve endings to life and encouraged her inner muscles to clamp around him, greedily coaxing him deeper. His finger circled her clit again, and she gasped as he sank another inch inside her and stilled. “Rose! I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s killing me, baby.” She gritted her teeth and realized, at the moment, she didn’t care if it hurt the first time—she needed him inside her right now. “Just do it, Knox.” This time when she pushed against him, he slammed his hips against her and slid home through her barrier. The pain was momentary, but the way he filled her was overwhelming. He stretched her until she thought she might tear, but his possession felt right. This was where he belonged—inside her. He hadn’t moved after breaching her virginity, and the urge to rock against him tore at her, but he held her still by the hips. “Knox.” “I’m sorry I hurt you.” “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Please. Move,” she begged him through clenched teeth. 97

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He obliged and eased out of her before sliding back in, excruciatingly slow, through her wet channel before pulling out again. His breathing was heavy against her shoulder, and she ached, needed more from him. “Please. God. I need—” She gasped when he slammed home and started pumping into her frantically. She braced her arms against the wall and met him thrust for thrust, sobbing from the pressure that threatened to rip her apart. He plowed through her tightness again and again, her muscles clamped around him each time he withdrew, trying to bring him back inside, and within moments she shattered. She screamed out his name over and over as she quivered around him. Moments later, she was still crying out when he roared her name as his hot seed shot inside her, pulse after pulse, with his release. When he slipped from her, she wanted to protest the loss, but he began to tenderly wash her, and she welcomed the glide of his hands over her sensitive, wet skin. When he finished, he dried and carried her to the bed, where he made love to her once again. This time was a less frantic, unhurried, thorough loving, and now she lay in his arms, head resting on his pec, body aching deliciously from his possession. She trailed her fingers over his chest, letting them tangle in the light dusting of blond hair sprinkled over his golden skin. He was a gorgeous man, and he was hers. It amazed her that she could go from hating him to loving him so quickly, but her heart, her soul had recognized that they were mates, just as he’d said. “Are you too sore?” “A little, but not too.” She smiled against him, loving his concern for her. “I was too rough the first time.” He hugged her. “No. You weren’t. You were perfect.” And he had been. “I was thinking. You remember what you did to me in our dream?” His mouth turned up at the corner. “Hmm. Which dream?” She sat up and playfully smacked him. “Oh. You mean the one where you had on that sexy-as-hell blue nightie?” “Yes.” His eyes glowed, and she nearly stopped breathing. 98

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“I could never forget what I did to you because I plan on doing it many, many more times.” “Down, boy.” She pushed him back onto the bed when he reached for her. “I was thinking I’d like to try that on you.” His eyes widened, and she laughed. “Unless you don’t want me to.” She looked down and saw that his impressive erection was standing at full attention, and she licked her lips. “I guess you wouldn’t mind after all.” She slid down to his stomach, where she kissed his navel and followed the thin trail of hair to his cock. He tangled one hand in her hair, and she kissed the tip of his cock before giving it a tentative lick. When he growled deep in his throat, it was all the encouragement she needed. She circled him with her hand and sucked him deep down her throat. He rolled his hips up and slid even deeper. He tasted salty and spicy. He tasted wonderfully wild, and she lapped at him as if he were a Popsicle. He guided her up and down with his hand, showing her what he liked, and she licked and sucked and stroked him until he cried out in release. He pulled her up and kissed her long and hard, the familiar tension building in her once again. She snuggled against him and smiled knowing she’d never be alone again. He’d always be by her side, and he’d protect her with his life as she would him. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

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Lycan Vengeance

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Chapter Thirteen “It’s perfect!” Rose spun around in the living room of the cedar-sided house. “Are you sure you’ll be happy way out here?” Knox pulled her to him and kissed her. She melted against him and kissed him back. “Mmmm. I’m sure. I’ll be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you. You’re my home.” He reached for her hand, tugged it flat over his heart, and covered it with his. “You have no idea what it does to me when you say things like that.” His whispered words shivered through her. She stood on tiptoe and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I know exactly what it does to you because it does the same thing to me.” She hugged him, and he held her hand while they stood in the living room of their new home. The cedar house was situated on over five hundred wooded acres and was only a few hours from Sanctuary. She and Knox had made their first visit to Sanctuary a couple weeks ago and decided they wanted to buy a place close by so they could help out. Rose was happy because Knox would no longer be out hunting rogues unless absolutely necessary. She would never try to prevent him from doing what he needed to do, but she wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t relieved to know he’d be home and safe with her. “Lorent seems like he’s come a long way. I’m glad you saw his potential.” “I’m glad too. I must confess that I didn’t want to give him that chance. If he’d hurt you, he wouldn’t be here now.” Lorent, the rogue who had attacked her at Knox’s place, had indeed proved to be a good man who had been terribly misguided. She’d talked to him at Sanctuary once she’d gotten over her apprehension to do so. He was smart, and it hadn’t hurt that he’d apologized to her about twenty times. He seemed to have embraced the ancient laws and now understood the importance of protecting potential mates, as she also did. While she’d been hesitant at first about fate handpicking certain women to be lycan mates, she couldn’t deny that fate had so far made the right 100

Lycan Vengeance

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choices in pairing up couples—she and Knox included. Being marked with a scent seemed a bit caveman to her, but it wasn’t something anyone had control over. Therefore, all potential mates had to be protected when found. She had to have faith that those chosen were chosen for the right reasons, compatibility reasons, reasons that would never be realized otherwise. She and Knox were two of the most unlikely people to be paired, yet they were living proof that they worked, that they were perfect together, that they completed one another. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to be turned, but for now, they were both content to be together. She enjoyed every moment of being with Knox, of learning everything about him, what made him happy, what made him sad, his favorite color, animal—she wanted to know it all. “Hey, talk to me.” He framed her face and rubbed his thumb along her frowning mouth. “It’s just, well—I don’t want you to end up resenting me if I can’t ever come to terms with you changing me.” He tilted her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. As always, the intensity that burned in those midnight pools stole the breath from her lungs, for she knew they burned only for her. “We’ve talked about this, and I meant every word when I said I will love you no matter what you choose. Being with you makes me happy, whether you are human or lycan.” “Yes, and I believe that you will always love me, but you can’t honestly tell me it wouldn’t bother you at all if I choose not to ever change.” “There are only two things that bother me about you not changing. The fact that your life span is so much shorter than mine and the fact that we cannot have children unless you do. The first is really no big deal, as I’ve lived a long time. If you choose to stay human, when you die, I will follow you into the afterlife. And, of course, I will always long for children with you because I can’t imagine anything sweeter than little girls with their mother’s black hair and blue eyes running around. But if that never happens, I assure you I will never regret what we have together. You are enough. We are enough.” 101

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Tears gathered in her eyes before spilling over onto her cheeks. She believed he’d respect and love her no matter what her decision, but she knew him well enough to recognize the yearning that crept into his eyes before he quickly hid it. And truthfully, until this point in time, she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to let him change her, but she ached to have his babies. She wanted to share everything with him, her heart, her soul . . . her children. She closed her eyes and let a smile tug at her lips when she thought of a little boy with midnight blue eyes, a carbon copy of his father, laughing and giggling and running. And that same little boy would cuddle up on her lap as she rocked him while his father told him a story until his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. She’d never wanted babies before, but she wanted them now. Only with Knox. Then there was the other problem. She didn’t want to see his life cut short because of a decision she’d made. If she didn’t change, she knew no matter what she said, no matter how hard she pleaded, he’d do as he said, and when the time came, he’d follow her into death. Her heart thumped in realization, realization that she would one day be ready to take that final step with him. She wasn’t ready to plunge in and let him change her at this very second, but she would let him. It was just a simple matter of when. In ways she was already ready, but she still had some doubts, and she didn’t want to agree to anything unless she had a clear conscience. Her doubts were based on the tinge of fear she still felt from what happened that night with Tammy. But she had begun to heal and hoped that soon she’d accept that it had just been one of those unfortunate things that she could not have stopped no matter what she’d done. She hugged him. “One day, Knox, I’ll be ready. I promise you. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Do you know what I’d like to do on our first night in our new home?” “I know what I’d like to do.” He smiled and nuzzled her neck. She kissed him. His tongue tangled with hers, and the familiar fire he so easily coaxed from her flamed to life. It was as if the embers never quite burned out while he was near. He buried his fingers in her hair and angled his

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mouth to deepen the kiss, and when the kiss ended, they were both breathing heavily. “I think we are on the same page,” she whispered huskily. “I do believe we are.” He scooped her up and started down the hall to the bedroom, but she grabbed on to the jamb of the bathroom door before he could pass it by. She kissed his ear before whispering in it. “I think I’d like to break in the shower first.” He growled and immediately carried her into the bathroom. “Your wish is my command.” He kissed her again. “But I have to tell you, I plan on breaking in every room tonight.” She laughed as he set her down, and they both started shedding their clothing.

The End

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TuÉâà à{x Tâà{ÉÜ S. K. Yule’s love for reading started in high school, and finally inspired her to try her hand at writing. Once an outlet was discovered for an overactive, and at times overwhelming imagination, a passion for creating stories for others to enjoy was born. You will most often find S. K. Yule tapping away on her laptop in her farmhouse located in a tiny Midwestern town with a population of 150. She lives with her real-life hero, her husband and plans to have the happily ever ending with him that she so often writes about. Their children consist of three Yorkies, three miniature schnauzers, and a rottweiler, all of which are spoiled rotten. S. K. Yule’s previously published, bestselling romance works include: Darkest Hours, Darkest Book I Darkest Desires, Darkest Book II Darkest Intentions, Darkest book III Lycan Lover Lycan Lust Lycan It Demon Scorned Jericho’s Revenge Breaking the Cowboy Three Lovers for Lucy S. K. Yule loves to hear from readers and other authors/writers. You can find more information about S. K. Yule and contact information at: www.skyule.com www.facebook.com/skyule